


Manticore

by CaptArthur (anauthorsworld00)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Demons, Elves, Fairies, Follows season 4, Follows season 5, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Scott is a Bad Friend, after season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 81,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anauthorsworld00/pseuds/CaptArthur
Summary: 'The body of a lion, the face of a man and the sting of a scorpion.'They saw the weakness in him but he felt the strength, he felt what they didn't see and he wasn't certain he wanted to be around when they saw it.





	1. Chapter 1

Changes have been occurring in Stiles long after he thought puberty was over, and long before too if he gave any real thought to it. He was becoming more receptive to the earth, to the differences between the supernatural and the non-supernatural. Scott was still subtly blaming him for Allison's death, Lydia was quiet around him and he didn’t want to have to burden his dad, not after everything else that had happened.

He remembered everything, he couldn’t not, it was too fresh in his mind, what that thing had done while it had been in control of his body. It worried him to think that these new changes may have been because of the Nogitsune taking over his body. He needed nothing from that thing, he wanted nothing from that thing. He just wanted his life to go back to normal. He wanted to be normal once more.

He came to realise he was suffering in his silence alone. None of his friends were treating him as anything more than the weak human, someone who’d not been strong enough to fight off an evil spirit that had taken him over and killed their friends. It was effectively his fault, he was the reason why everyone was treating him differently. The reason Aiden was dead, the reason Allison was dead, the reason his dad was drowning in medical bills. He was good for nothing and he should have just died with the rest of them.

He had slowly been deteriorating into a shell of the excitable boy he’d once been and no one was noticing, no one was aware of the pain he was suffering through, maybe they just didn’t care. Stiles didn’t care why would they care.

Derek had disappeared. Nothing left in his place but a few misplaced bullets leading back to the Calavera’s. A Mexican group of hunters that identified themselves with an etched skull upon their bullet casings.

Chris and Isaac had fled Beacon Hills. Their memories of Allison too fresh in Beacon Hills to let them remain there and stew in them.

Scott and Lydia had withdrawn. The grief palpable, they mourned for Aiden and Allison and they kept their anger towards it all fresh.

Ethan had taken off. He couldn’t live in a town where his brother had died. Died for people who hadn’t even wanted to associate with them, to begin with. It was not something he needed to be worrying about at that time. He needed to grieve, to mourn, to find a way to live in a world without Aiden, without a pack.

Even his dad was swamped with work and didn’t have the time for him.

He was all alone stewing in his own thoughts and wandering through the world one new strange thing at a time.

He spent nearing all of his time in a fit of self-enforced solitary confinement and no one even thought or came to drag him out of it. His soul hurt almost as if something was ripping away from him with all of the time he spent alone and away from everyone. He cried frequently, silent tears rolling down his face and connecting almost immediately with the forest floor. There was little he could do but just get on with his existence as much as he hated himself for still being there.

Spirits came out of the woodwork to speak to him, to discuss with him his ancestors, what his mother had been too ill to speak to him of before she died, what was to become of him the more pain he felt. Pain meant magic. To them, it was an art form. To him, it was a cheap trophy after what had happened. The spirits became books, became spells, became charms, became lessons.

He was receptive to it all, to the world that was wider than Beacon Hills, to more than the McCall pack. His world extended far beyond what was shown before him, he was an expert in all things supernatural, he was Deaton with fewer riddles and a lot more anger. He was blue flames in a forest fire of orange. He was danger and life, he was the sea and the stars and he knew more than Scott would have them think was out there.

He was alone and yet he wasn’t, he met the nymphs and the dryads, and the flower fairies. The ones that had watched him grow up, those who’d vowed his mother they would keep an eye out, those who stopped his father from going too far off the deep end when Stiles was a child. He made friends, and allies, he learnt warnings and fables, what these natives thought of the wolves, who they wanted back, what they found distasteful.

He grew up in those months he spent in the woods, he was lanky and he was sarcastic and he was mean, he meant well and he wanted nothing more than to protect what he thought was right.

He was seventeen and the forest trusted him with their existence, it didn’t react negatively when he showed weakness, it never cast him out. He was a true member of a community for what felt like the first time in all his years.

It was nearing the middle of their break from school that people began to seek Stiles out, they wanted his bubbly personality his optimistic nature, they wanted the old Stiles but he was long dead. They dragged him away from his time in the woods for more normal activities that saw him shopping with Lydia and watching star wars with Kira. Scott didn’t speak to him not yet.

He didn’t care. Stiles was not the hyperactive kid that they knew back then, he was darker now, more silent. He didn’t much care for the same things he used to, he was drawn to the fight they wanted him for but not the same reasons.

Lydia argued for getting Derek back and that piqued his attention, no one had cared anything about the stoic werewolf before, no one but Stiles and his idea that everyone needed someone and they could be that for one another. Now he was a solitary being and it amused him to watch Lydia try and rally the troops to find some semblance of information about their old companion and friend.

Scott was up for the mission as soon as Lydia suggested it, his eyes hard as they looked over Stiles. He’d still not quite forgiven Stiles for his weakness, and the fact that Stiles didn’t even look remorseful about it clearly didn’t go in his favour.

Lydia rallied the troops, Malia and Kira were following their alpha and it seemed Stiles was just there for old times sakes. He would protect them even if they were not so willing to protect him, they were his friends, he would count them as allies, they protected those supernaturals they didn’t know existed and he owed it to them to keep their one true protectors in Beacon Hills alive. Those were his reasons, he didn’t need more.

He approached the pack house apprehensively, really it was the McCall family house but he couldn’t bear to think of it any other way than the pack house, the house he hadn’t been in since they had died. The house he hadn’t been in since the bond snapped.

His slow movements dropped their defences, they didn’t even know he was outside, that or they didn’t care. The pain he felt listening in was like nothing before, Scott was angry at Lydia for asking him to go with them to Mexico, asking him who was only ‘useful for research’ to come somewhere dangerous when he was so ‘weak’ and they couldn’t even trust him because ‘he killed Allison’. He felt his rebuilt sense of self crumble and his sadness flow, he thought maybe just maybe he could have come back, there had always been that hope. Now that little flame of hope was extinguished, they didn’t need him. They didn’t need him as a human so he wasn’t going to let them think they needed him as he newly was. He wouldn’t let them use him in that way.

He let out the breath he’d been holding as he’d listened to his once close friend and stiffened his resolve, he couldn’t just ignore what had been said but they didn’t know he knew, and he’d promised Lydia he’d come by. He wouldn’t arise suspicion, if he was going to separate himself once and for all from these toxic relations he had to make it subtle he didn’t want them chasing after him, he wanted a clean break. He needed a clean break.

He knocked on the door, throat dry as he heard them stop talking, he only wished they’d say it to his face. He didn’t need this. Not like this. Not friendships they felt like they needed to commit to. To make him feel better, he wouldn’t let that happen to him. He’d make it out. It would hurt, he knew it would, but he couldn’t live in this environment with people who didn’t trust him, and people who didn’t stick up for him either.

Lydia opened the door, a smile plastered on her face, “good you’re here, everyone else is inside.”

Stiles felt his heartache as he felt for the people who used to include everyone, the ones who were gone, the ones who were dead. Some of those treated him better than he was being treated now, better than he had been treated then. He wasn’t useful he wasn’t needed.

He swallowed his pain and held up the folder of papers he’d been gripping in his right hand, knuckles tight and white.

“I brought the research you wanted.”

He set it down on the table and took a step away from the table, he was distancing himself from them but they didn’t even notice. Malia flicked through it uninterested, she just wanted to get out there, support her alpha and find someone who had helped them. She hated when her people were taken advantage of, and yet she never noticed the pains Stiles was handling.

They were discussing the barebones of what was going to happen when Scott finally noticed how far away Stiles was from them.

“You don’t have to come, this isn’t exactly your strength, Stiles.”

Stiles felt his jaw clench up and his eyes burned, he wasn’t joining in on the conversation because they hadn’t invited his ideas, they’d even pushed his research aside. He was here out of courtesy, even the invitation seemed to have double standards. They didn’t want him with them.

He let his hands fall to his sides and shook his head.

“What do you want me to do, Scott?”

Scott glared at him, “we need to focus on finding Derek if you’re not going to help you can leave.”

“I helped, you wanted the research and I brought it. I’ve never been able to help in these plans, what good am I suggesting something and having it immediately shot down. You offer me an out as if you want me gone then you can’t even follow it through when I offer you the shot to get me gone. Just tell me what you want, Scott.”

“I want you to make an effort, we brought you back-”

“NO! No, you didn’t. This was for you, this wasn’t for me. You want me to submit, and you want me to be human. But you don’t trust me, so why should I be here.”

“What are you talking about Stiles?”

“I heard you! Minutes ago, I’m ‘weak’, I’m not ‘strong enough’, I ‘killed Allison’! You hate me! But you don’t even have the balls to tell me yourself. Real alpha quality there.”

Stiles laughed, it was brash and broken, and his hands had formed fists at his sides clenched tight.

Scott growled and stepped forwards, one blink and his eyes were that strong blood red, a colour that had once comforted him knowing he could trust the pack alpha, now it only made him hurt.

“Can’t control me like that anymore, Scotty. Ain’t just gonna submit.”

Stiles shook his head at the weak attempt to keep him in line. He was of course out of line and that would have bothered him if he was still a part of the pack, but he was his own man his own brain and there was little they could do to control him now.

Scott straightened up eyes still red and still fierce looking, but he wasn’t having the desired effect on the boy as it once might have. He wanted him under his thumb, to not fight back, to just take them out and not make him be the monster and forcefully push him out.

Lydia looked between them eyes wide and worried, “Stiles what do you mean?”

Stiles scoffed, how could they have not felt it?

“I’m not pack. Not anymore. You pushed me out. Was completely cut off after the nogitsune, you were all grieving and you didn’t think about how I was just as affected by the events as you were, if not more so.”

“But you never said anything?”

Stiles threw his arms up exasperated, “when did I have a chance to. You were avoiding me. You all blamed me for those deaths, no one was available for me to talk to. You were so adamant to keep me at arm's length you didn’t even feel the bond break, why would I come to talk to you.”

Lydia stepped back at his admittance, hurt in her eyes. Sure she’d been grieving Allison and mourning Aiden but she never once thought she’d been pushing Stiles away, she never wanted that.

Scott shook his head, his eyes back to normal, “You’re right I don’t trust you. Trust is earned, Stiles, you haven’t done anything since Allison died to convince us to trust you.”

Stiles scoffed and clenched his jaw, “then I shouldn’t be here. Find Derek yourselves.”

He shook his head and threw open the door to leave, he was halfway towards his car when he heard the growl behind him.

He stomped his foot and turned around angrily, he wanted his clean break. He wanted that and they should let him have it.

“What! Scott, what?”

The wind whipped around them harshly in response to Stiles’ anger, he wasn’t controlling himself, he couldn’t but he wasn’t acting maliciously, he didn’t hate them.

“You’re going to just give up on Derek?”

“Jesus, Scott, I thought you wanted me gone now you’re chastising me for leaving the pack that cut me off to find a grumpy werewolf on their own. Really confusing manifesto there, Scott.”

Scott’s growl was his only response and Stiles chuffed in amusement, “if that’s all you’re going to say I’m going home.”

He turned back again and finally Scott spoke, “just because you’re no longer pack doesn’t mean a weak human can turn his back to me.”

Stiles let out a watery laugh and turned back to Scott, tears welling up in his eyes and hand pointing at him, “you really are everything you didn’t want to be Scott, you’re worse than Derek, you know that. You hate me, and you want me to suffer in it. I want to suffer in it but you won’t let me go. Sure, I’m weak because I’m weaker than you, but I was there when you were asthmatic when you couldn’t even get the girl. You’re only like this because I dragged you into the woods that night even because I didn’t rat you out to my dad. You’re a bully, Scott, and you’re a hypocrite. I hope you feel better about everything because I will, I’ll get over it without you, without the pack. I hope you find Derek so you can realise just how much of a monster you’ve become.”

He turned his back again for the final time. He just wanted to get gone, he wanted to be free of all of this. He didn’t need this crap, not now not ever again. He wasn’t weak he wasn’t human and yet that’s the only thing they cared about, two qualities that didn’t bother Scott until he’d been possessed and his doppelgänger had killed his girlfriend.

Grief changed them both, only Stiles’ transformation was for their betterment.

He heard the growl before it hit him, claws tearing up the back of his leg, he gritted his teeth in pain the wind was getting harsher around them and the air was becoming electrified.

He crawled his way over onto his back, to see the monster looming above him, he wasn’t afraid, he was truly sorry for his friend.

“I’m glad Allison can’t see what you’ve become, Scott.”

That did it, the claws came down and hit his face, he wailed in pain and pulled his hands up to cover the bloody tissue falling from his face.

He cried out and fell back, he was bleeding heavily, his magic building up in his body, trying to heal him some before it released and hit Scott in a wave of electrified air, sending the now man again back a few feet away from his injured friend.

Scott scrambled back as he saw what he’d done, his eyes turning to his house where his pack mates were stood in the doorway, Lydia already calling an ambulance her eyes wide. There was blood on his clothes and blood in his nails, skin in his nails. He’d hurt Stiles, he’d injured Stiles.

Scott bolted.

Stiles rolled around in agony, his face tore up and bleeding, his eyes screaming in pain. He couldn’t even see what was happening, his heartbeat was drumming loud in his ears. He hadn’t registered the burst of energy that had originated from him, he could only feel himself drifting towards the darkness with no inclination to stop himself drowning in it.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles awoke a few times in his pained state, he was only conscious for mere moments, but he noted the bandage wrapped around the right side of his face. He registered the fuzzy quality to his surroundings and the distinct way he felt floaty and realised pretty quickly he was being treated in a hospital.

It hurt to know he was there, to know everything that happened wasn’t a dream, that Scott really did hurt him with malicious intent.

His best friend had injured him, had tackled him to the floor tore up his calf and tried to rip his eye out. He might have even been successful in that endeavour by the feel of himself, he couldn’t figure out if he cried would his bandages be wet from the inside, but if his eye had been ripped out, surely not?

He cried himself back to his fitful unconscious state, he couldn’t bear to think of what was happening out there while he was in here.

His magic thrumming was the first thing he felt as he woke up properly for what felt like years, his eye was drowsy and sore as it opened to the light of the white sterile hospital room. He noted his dad in the hospital chair at the end of his bed, head resting on his palm as he slept in that uncomfortable chair. His left calf ached but other than that and his head he couldn’t register any other pain.

He groaned as he pulled himself up into a more comfortable position on his bed and his dad's eyes fluttered open at the sound.

He was at his side in an instant, eyes wide and worried, up close Stiles could identify the bags that littered the undersides of his dad's eyes.

“Stiles, shhh, shhh you’ve been in a coma for the last three days, you’ve had some surgery on your leg but they couldn’t do anything to your face until you woke up. Can you tell me what happened, Lydia said she found you like that outside of Scott’s.”

Stiles' heart dropped as he thought back to what actually happened, they didn’t tell, Scott got away with it.

He shook his head and dropped it back against the pillow of his bed, eye closing. He didn’t want to drag this out any longer than it had to be. He wanted gone and this only hindered that.

Noah Stilinski held his son’s hand tight as he saw the wave of emotions pass over his sons face. Stiles surely knew what happened to him but he hadn’t spent any time with his son since what had happened and he didn’t know how to prove to him that he could trust him again.

Noah patted his hand softly, “you’ll tell me when you’re up to it, right? I’ll go get the doctor, see if they can do anything about your face now that you’re awake.”

Stiles didn’t move, he kept his head where it was against the bed. He didn’t want to think about any of this, Scott had attacked him, he’d wounded his leg and then he’d gone for the kill. Even his once friends had covered it up, five people knew what happened and four of them were worried the fifth would tell. He wouldn’t. He didn’t need to be known as a victim, not here, not where he was the mad kid who’d had himself locked up in the madhouse. He needed to get away from here, he didn’t want to have to put himself through this again.

His dad returned with the doctor, and still didn’t open his eye, even as they were talking to him about facial reconstruction, he didn’t even know how it looked and they wanted him to change it.

He opened his eye as they were removing his bandages, it reminded him of the Nogitsune and his hands shook, he couldn’t do any more bandages on his head, it hurt him too much. His entire body shook from the trauma as he watched himself be slowly revealed to the world. The damage wasn’t bad. Not as bad as he had truly expected, he found he could even slightly see out of his right eye, but the vision was tinted with gold, more so when he came to look at himself in the handheld mirror.

Whatever Scott had done to him hadn’t been too bad, one claw seemingly dragged in a bit more harsher than the other and that was the one that curved through his eyebrow and down through his eye to just below his eye. The other claws left red lines that didn’t appear as deep bracketing the uglier one.

The doctor was binning the bandages and speaking to his father before he turned back to where Stiles was coming to terms with his new look, “there are treatments we can implement for the smaller of the two scars but there is a full facial reconstruction we can get you into to replace all of the damage."

Stiles shook his head, “I don’t want it.”

Noah looked brokenly across at his son, “Stiles think about this.”

“I am dad, I-I can’t do any more bandages. I just want to be discharged.”

The doctor nodded, excusing himself from the room and away from the soon to come discussion between the father and son.

“Stiles, if you’re worried about the bills-”

“It’s not that, dad. I don’t care what I look like, and I can’t be here longer than I have to be.”

“I understand you don’t like hospitals.”

“Dad I mean Beacon Hills, I can’t stay here.”

“We don’t have the money to just up and leave.”

“I don’t mean us, dad, I’m different here and I hate it. Everything here hurts the people, the places. I’ve changed since everything and I need to find out who I am.”

“Stiles?”

“Mom was a witch right?” His voice was quiet and it shook Noah who only nodded in agreement.

“How did you find out?”

“The spirits came to talk to me. Apparently, the Nogitsune initiated my transition.”

“Do the pack know?”

“No dad and they won’t. They don’t trust me from Allison.”

“Did they do this?!”

“No, dad. That isn’t the reason. I wanted to leave before this happened, this just gives me an excuse.”

“I don’t want you to go, Stiles, but I understand why you need to. I can see about your discharge, but you’ll have to promise to keep in touch, I’m not losing you too.”

“I promise dad. You'll have to eat properly when I’m gone, though.”

His dad laughed and carded a hand through his son's hair, he sure did remind him of his mother, and here he was accepting his magical origin without even an idea of where to start. He trusted his boy. He never stopped, whatever had happened to him to get these scars and this time to decide he had to leave his son had become his own man, he could never be prouder.

If this was going to make Stiles happier than he seemed to be at this moment and every moment since what happened with Allison, then he was willing to let his son venture out into the world with more pain and more sorrow than anyone had ever left home with. He would let his boy go, he'd be scared for him and permanently worried but he couldn't think of a more prepared young man to hit the streets.

He should have been more worried about the world with Stiles in it, rather than Stiles in the world. That was a thought that made him laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles had spent the past two weeks in the hospital to make sure he was ready enough to go off into the world alone. Of course, they didn't know what he was doing they just assumed he'd go back to his everyday life not go gallivanting around the world as he had planned. They'd probably baulk to think about hyperactive Stiles in the world. Though that was just one of the reasons he wasn't telling anyone he was going, it just didn't seem like anyone's business, no one but his and his dad's.

His dad had made sure his jeep was packed up so he could go, he was sad his son was going but if he could make the transition easier, he would. That was as much his job as raising him was, he'd always seen Stiles out there in the world making the world his victim. He had never thought his very intelligent son would be dropping out of school because he had been attacked and seemingly abandoned by those he had once called friends. His son didn't need that, so he'd accepted it, if this is what Stiles wanted then he would help to the best of his ability and only hope that everything went smoothly on his journey.

No one had visited him in the hospital but he hadn’t expected them to, his scars grew less angry, and calmed to a gentler shade of pale pink that made him look as if he’d had them for years rather than a few weeks. The gold in his injured eye faded but specks were still present if you looked close enough. Stiles liked to think that it was an open portal to his newest abilities, but it also made him sad to even think of it too much.

The pain came in short intervals and only when he least expected it to. His calf still needed the bandages changing periodically but the doctors had provided him with a number of them for his trip, he had to be careful about keeping the stitches dry and not over-exerting himself. It was a lot to prepare himself for especially when all he wanted to do was be free.

It didn’t help that despite his whole want and need to run away from Beacon Hills, he had no concrete idea about what he wanted to do when he was out there. He had goals sure, but nothing that he could surely implement with only a few weeks of bed rest under his belt to prepare for.

He wanted to find information on who he was, what he was, what he could do. But he didn’t know where to begin on that endeavour at all. His intentions were solid he just didn’t know how to even get there.

He sat in the driver's seat of his jeep and looked out of the front window at the town he once knew and only wanted to protect, now all he wanted to do was get away. He hit his phone against the palm of his hand repetitively as he fought with himself over calling his dad. He’d been sat there for nearing an hour, feeling relieved to be gone yet utterly terrified to be facing the whole world alone.

He couldn’t call his dad, that was assured to him. His dad had told him he was scared for him but proud all the same. His dad was supporting his decision, he had to at least try to get out of there, try and see what the world was like outside of the McCall reach.

Steeling himself he dropped his phone into the centre console of his car before he pushed it into drive and took the first steps away from Beacon Hills and into the real world.

He didn’t know where he was driving, that much was obvious to him when he freaked out at every junction, finally having to make a decision he found himself driving in circles following every right he could find. His heart beat was increasing and he was driving himself crazy, the light was getting low and he had just assumed that something in him would point him in the right direction like his consciousness had some clue as to where he should go. It didn’t, not one part of him had a clue what he was looking for out in that world.

He pulled over at the first sign of a rest stop and rested his head in his hands, his breaths were coming out fast and he was almost having a panic attack, he didn’t need this now. His hands found his phone again, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

He hit his hands against the steering wheel a couple of time before he sat back up. He’d made a mistake, of course he had, everything he did was a goddamn mistake.

He let out a sad breath and rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, he couldn’t do this. His dad put his faith in him and already two hours in he was regretting it. This was a mess.

He rubbed furiously at his eyes before he looked back out at everything in front of him again. He had settled himself to be sleeping in the cab of his car until he found somewhere more suitable to settle down, he didn’t have the money to keep spending nights in scabby motels. He needed to find somewhere for himself, somewhere where he could find himself and figure out all of his shit. He didn’t need Beacon Hills, he didn’t need that pack. He could be his own man.

Deciding this stop was as suitable as any other he could find this late in the day and settled himself down for his first night in his car. He would figure everything out better tomorrow. Tomorrow he would have a better idea.

He awoke to the sun in his eyes, his limbs ached and his head hurt. Yeah sleeping in his car wasn’t the best. He knew that now at least. He threw his arm back into the back seats of his car and fished out his backpack. It had food that could keep him in the car for long stretches of time, his dad really did think of everything for his trip and he couldn’t help to feel completely thankful for his father more so than he ever had done before. Thinking about his dad made him just want to cry, and he wasn’t sure he could put himself through that again while trying to leave Beacon Hills completely behind.

He wanted to be stronger, this required him to be stronger.

He heaved in a breath as he flicked through the items in his backpack, his fingers grazing over what felt like laminated paper and he frowned. He grasped at the thick wad of paper and tugged it out from where it was tucked up in the back of his bag.

A smile graced Stiles’ face as he found the little pink post-it cello taped to the front of it, his dads chicken scratch handwriting making him want to cry all over again.

‘Thought you might need some idea on where to go, found this on your desk, thought you might want it. Good luck in the world, kid - Dad.’

He plucked the post-it off of the map and stuck it to the inside of his visor in his jeep. He needed something to stop himself turning around all over again. This was his time now, it was his decision and he needed to stick by it.

He fingered the map before opening it up with a frown. He couldn’t remember why he’d had a map on his desk, he’d started a lot of things but never finished a lot of them leaving them abandoned on his desk. Still, he thought a big map would have been something he would have remembered.

He opened it up, it was just a regular huge road map, well it was until he caught sight of his own messy handwriting down the bottom of the page. He followed the neatly drawn red and green lines until they stopped at presumably the destination, he had drawn a skull over the name of a Mexican town he couldn’t pronounce. His finger tingled where it rested on the skull, Stiles shrugged it was as good a place as any to start his journey.

He tossed the map onto the passenger seat, figuring if he headed towards Mexico it would be the best plan rather than trying to follow directions on a road map solitarily while trying not to crash.

He wondered for a moment if the others had looked at his research after he had left it with them, and if they had would they be there too? He wasn’t certain what he would do if he found Derek there himself, he supposed he’d get him back and then drive him back to Beacon Hills. The elder werewolf was surly on the best of days how would he feel getting rescued by the ‘weak’ human he mused, then chuckled. He didn’t much care what they thought of him these days, he didn’t need their approval, he’d go to Mexico, see about Derek, and if the man wasn’t there, well then he’d find somewhere else to go, but for right now he had some sort of purpose. He had some sort of plan and a way to get there.

He was moving up in the world, one plan, one sign his magic still persisted, and people he still considered friends. All the while he knew his dad was back in Beacon Hills wishing him well as Stiles began his journey into the world.

Maybe he would send his dad a postcard when he got to Mexico, let him know he was okay and let him know where he was. Two birds with one stone.

He knew he could call him, of course he did, but he didn’t want to get caught up in the strange small talk, postcards were an easy way to let him know he was doing well without getting him too worked up over small things, and that was never his plan. He’d always seen himself as having the job to keep the burdens off of his dad not add to them, it was partially a reason for why he’d wanted to leave, give his dad a chance to find himself again without being defined by his ADHD hyperactive kid. Maybe this would be good for both of them, he hoped so at least.

He felt a lot better now that he had some semblance of a purpose, he didn’t feel burdened by the fact the pack might be there, that wasn’t a worry anymore. They didn’t have any say in what went on his life, although he had maybe three days worth of driving to decide he actually did care, have a panic then attempt to turn around again. He sensed he was going to be dealing with this kind of pattern for a long time, maybe some familiarity would do him some good.


	4. Chapter 4

Mexico brought along with it a lot of new. Fewer people looked at him strangely when he pulled over at rest stops that was a bonus. He did, however, get searched at the border though, those border officials clearly didn’t like the look of him, maybe it was the grin. Nah it was definitely the scars. He’d laughed it off for a second but they’d given him a real look of terror that didn’t bode well for anyone and he’d practically held up the whole queue while they had several sniffer dogs check out his jeep. He doubted they even believed he was from California, he figured they might think he was in on the drugs because of his face, it would be hard to fully correct them and tell them he got mauled by an alpha werewolf, they would surely believe he was on drugs then, that would be a definite.

He’d crossed from Arizona to Mexico through the Douglas border, it meant more driving around in America than he’d initially thought it would be when he’d drawn it out on the map, but most of his research led him to believe that the Calaveras most likely lived somewhere in the region of Chihuahua. It was still a big area to search by any means, but it meant he didn’t have to be driving around Sonora for no apparent reason because there was then no direct or fast route into Chihuahua and he would be stuck.

He tried to stop everywhere he had a chance to, so he could check his map and if he was luckily actually get to explore a bit. He had a feeling that no one would give him really any information when it came to a gang possibly a mob within the Mexican community that hunted supernatural creatures. It was equally likely that they’d think he was completely insane so he kept to himself.

People didn’t actively seek him out to speak to him but they weren’t ignorant of him either. He had shed his hoodies jacket and his pale complexion definitely looked out of place in Mexico, more so than his scars. His scars just made him less of a likely victim among the rougher neighbourhoods he had been trekking his way through.

Janos was one of the first places he stopped after his crossing, it was a small place and exactly how Stiles had figured Mexico would be. Stereotypical he knew. He picked up and posted a postcard from a pretty run down but acceptably stocked information centre in the middle of the town. The man didn’t speak much English but Stiles got the gist of it, and if his postcard didn’t reach his dad it wasn’t the end of the world, he could always send another one he just wouldn’t know. No important information was placed on the card, just letting him know where he was and that he was doing well so far. Nothing that mattered if it did go missing.

Sweat lined the collars of his shirts as he found his tolerance to the climate of California was trumped by the climate of Mexico. It added to the fact that his car air conditioner broke on a near-daily basis. He loved the jeep he really did, this was just one thing he didn’t need, not right now.

He’d been both sightseeing and actively searching his way through Mexico for the past two days, and still sleeping in his car. His cash stash was limited at best and he spent most of it on street food and water, he wasn’t looking forward to finding himself a job, especially if it was here but he didn’t want to rely on his dad's money to keep him out in the world. This was his turn independently, not his turn on his dad's dime.

It was a not intolerably warm day when he was wandering about Casas Grandes, it was nearing nightfall and he still needed to find a place to sleep for the night. He wasn’t about to risk it by sleeping in his car in the middle of nowhere this time around. He only slightly trusted the sides of the road in America more than the sides of the road in Mexico. His car was parked down by a bakery that he’d seen when he first drove in.

Casas Grandes was bigger than Janos but that was to be expected. It was a town that had been included in his crudely drawn skull on that map. He couldn’t be certain he’d find them here, them or Derek but it sure was a place to start.

He faded into the background easily and he didn’t much mind, no one could be assed because he wasn’t behaving like a tourist but they cared to some degree to watch him because they knew he didn’t act like a local. That and his pale complexion giving him away every time.

He was in a local store attempting to inquire about spare rooms or a rented bed for the night, even a rented floor, he’d take what he could get. It was then when someone first initiated contact with him, someone was pulling at his shirt sleeve and he excused himself from the one-sided conversation he was having with a very uninterested man.

“Señor, señor!”

He looked down to catch the eye of an equally deformed little boy, although his scarring looked much older than his, he was excitable and tugging the same on his sleeve as he was holding the hand of the woman next to him.

The woman smiled in apology before beginning to speak to him in Spanish, his expression clearly showed his knowledge was rudimentary at best as she quickly switched to a more broken version of English that was much better than his Spanish.

“You are looking for somewhere to sleep, no?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come with us,” she stilled for a moment before she patted her chest and spoke again, “I, uh, Adelia, he Ezio.” She patted her boy who was still grinning up at him and holding his sleeve tight.

“Thank you, I’m Stiles.”

She smiled in thanks to his response.

In truth he was more than grateful to them for even coming to speak to him in that shop, no one else seemed to understand or even want to understand what he was saying to them.

Ezio pulled at Stiles sleeve until he was walking beside them rather than behind them. The boy was probably more excited than Stiles had seen anyone in a long time. It made him feel both worried and happy, he wouldn’t be staying with them longer than a full nights sleep and perhaps a morning so he would take the small feeling of happiness every time he looked at little Ezio’s deformed face.

The little house they appeared at looked like more shack than anything he might have pictured but who was he to judge, they were offering him a bed with a roof over it, he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Adelia welcomed him inside, muttering bouts of Spanish he couldn’t quite even put together even with those few words he did recognise. She didn’t seem to be too fazed at his lack of an understanding but did push Ezio to leave him alone for a little while.

Ezio grinned his little grin before darting off further into the house to do whatever Stiles didn’t know.

She pushed him into sitting at the dinner table as she busied herself around the house, humming sweet little tunes beneath her breath. He was veritably out of his depth here, having no real clue of what he was doing there or even what was acceptable to be doing in someone else’s home. He felt an itching sense to go find his jeep and sleep in there but he figured Mexico really wasn’t the place for that, and he really didn’t want to seem rude to Adelia and Ezio who had more than happily let him into their home.

Adelia made them food, Ezio settled happily in the rickety chair to the right of Stiles, grin ever present on his little goofy face. The two Mexicans chatted happily together looking to and from Stiles to include him in conversation that he couldn’t comprehend, that or talk about him. He didn’t much mind either conversation topic. They were both fair enough.

Stiles found the meal remarkably bland but also equally filling, his diet as of recently had been made up of greasy diner food and protein bars, he supposed anything else was much better. He couldn’t fault this for its effort and its effectiveness at filling you up, which he figured was as good as anything could be food wise.

Ezio pushed his bowl aside and turned to face Stiles almost excitably, he was gesturing all over the place spewing long strings of Spanish that completely flew over Stiles’ head. He’d clearly made a mistake coming to Mexico of all places, Poland he would have been sorted.

Adelia hit him and muttered a few words with a frown. Ezio stopped and looked at his fingers before he looked back to stiles.

“Your…your face?…cut…how?”

He was following his words with gestures against his skin as if touching his own face, meaning Stiles’ scars.

Stiles rubbed the back of his head, for the first time he hadn’t been thinking of his scars, they hadn’t even looked at him as if he was any different, granted that might have had something to do with Ezio’s own difference from the normal population. In fact here at this table it was Adelia that was the one with the notable difference.

“I was attacked, someone tried to claw my eye out.”

He ran a hand down his face, careful against his new scars showing the little boy where three of someone's fingers had dug into the skin of his cheek. Ezio nodded before looking back at Adelia, he ran a hand across the scarred bumpiness of the left side of his face.

“I…I…BOOM!…fire…hurt.”

Stiles frowned as he thought of what the boy had said to him, maybe a bomb, but could have been an explosion. Adelia looked sad but spoke up anyway.

“His fathers work, an accident, my husband Julio died.”

“I’m sorry.” Adelia smiled at his apology, it was sad and pained as she thought to her lost love and the pain that her boy had endured over even just an accident.

She cleared her throat and stood up from the table to begin clearing it, Stiles began to help when Adelia took his arm, “Ezio show you where you sleep.”

He thanked them again and followed the excitable little boy through the small space and towards where undoubtedly he would be sleeping.

The room was small and quite cramped, but it was a bed nonetheless and he would be forever thankful. He would never try and force them to do anything more for him, this was entirely enough. They'd already done much more than he had expected anyone to do for him this early into his trip. It was just a reminder that people could be good to him without knowing the circumstances, even more so that people who knew nothing about him were nice and even those who had known him longest weren't. Perspective was new, he also hated it.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep brought the horrors of night terrors, he hadn’t expected that they wouldn’t come but he had hoped. It wasn’t something he wanted to advertise to the family that had taken him in, they’d taken a chance on him and now here he was ruining their night and causing himself pain all in the same instance. He hated himself for that. Real PTSD was a bitch. 

He was pretty much usually a flailer when he was terrified in sleep, but this time he found he couldn’t move, he was facing a severe case of sleep paralysis, unlike anything he'd ever dealt with before. 

Everything was running through his mind as if he was watching it back all over again. He didn’t need to relive this he still remembered it crystal clear like it was yesterday. He didn’t need it both in his sleep and when he was awake, this was just some evil voodoo that was going on that he did not approve of. 

He always hoped that with this newly found powers he had gained he might be able to quell the panic attacks and the night terrors, but as of now he realised he really just needed someone to show him some sort of way. He hadn’t really tried anything himself to be fair, like he was really just hoping he’d get to where he needed to be and suddenly just be a fully fledged wizard. He knew that was a little bit silly and way out of the realm of possibility, but he guessed he didn’t really want to be thinking on that new hurdle just yet when he was still too busy figuring out Alone Stiles, never mind Wizard Stiles. He’d get to that another day. 

He'd set himself some time to really experiment with it, hopefully when he was away from people. Isolated he felt was the best situation he could be in to try something that could be potentially dangerous to him and anyone he happened to try it out around. 

He awoke with breath stolen from his throat. His eyes flashed open harshly, the rush of light that hit his senses pained him almost immediately. He noticed little until he blinked once more, then his eyes widened. 

The atmosphere was different. 

The feeling of a hand pressed against his throat was definitely different. Though it was very two years ago Derek Hale reminiscent. 

This, however, was more threatening, his lightheadedness from already experiencing a night terror before he began to be choked out added to the fact that he thought he was safe in the house with Adelia and Ezio was enough for him to be crazy scared about everything that was going on. 

Whoever had him, threw him against a wall as it crumbled around them, wherever they were it wasn’t built for this kind of attack, they held him there through a slack hold against his throat pressing him firmly against the wall unable to move away. He coughed and felt the urge to vomit though he was sure that wouldn’t stop them wanting to attack him, it might even bring on their anger twofold. 

They finally released him and he slumped to the floor, back catching against rough wall as he scraped down. He coughed again, hacking up spit all over himself but he couldn’t fin dit in him to be bothered by it, he was only concerned with the fact he was still alive and worried about how Adelia and Ezio were faring amidst all of this. 

He took the opportunity as it was and gulped in as much air as he could get into his lungs. Someone grabbed him by his arm and dragged him back up the wall. He was very awake now, just one bonus from being awoken by choking that and the adrenaline rush he was clearly thinking. 

The man that was up in his face was recognisable by one feature only, the vibrant red rings around his pupils sent shock straight to Stiles’ core. He was more immensely worried for those innocents who had welcomed him into their home, wherever they were when this man had come for him. 

Stiles stared back wide-eyed at the alpha werewolf before him, as the man was staring him down harshly a slight snarl to the set of his mouth.

“This is our pack land, muchacho, you’re not welcome here.”

Stiles frowned despite his winded situation, he was not prepared to be running into any supernaturals during his trip, he had not even given it enough of a thought. Especially not when he was confronted with it now. 

The man growled as he saw no change in Stiles’ demeanour. He pressed him harder against the wall and Stiles winced at the stabbing pain it caused, there was no need to keep hold of him Stiles knew that there was no way he was getting away from this when an alpha werewolf was menacingly staring him down. 

“We need no fight over territories, you should move on now.”

Stiles blinked as his mind processed this alphas words, “I’m not…no. I’m human.”

The grip on his throat loosened, and red eyes blinked black to brown. The wolves around him shifted on their feet, eyes flickering out of those unnatural shades of blue and yellow, Stiles knew that they could hear his heartbeat, they knew he was telling them his utter truth. They were no longer threatened by him, it was clear even if he was something - like maybe a magic user - he was of no threat to them because he didn't know how to control or even use it to his own advantage. 

“Your smell, you smell of wolf, muchacho.”

Stiles shrugged and allowed for the alpha to remain in his personal space even though he was no longer holding him in place. Stiles was being there voluntarily rather than forcefully now even if he still felt incredibly uncomfortable where he stood. 

“I guess the wolf that attacked me maybe scratched some of their scent into my scars?”

The man flinched back as he for the first time took a real unhindered look at the scars across Stiles’ face, the wolf didn’t seem to want to hurt him completely and for no reason, and he seemed to fear the fact that another wolf had done that damage to him. 

“You are in a pack, no?”

“I was, not anymore.”

“They did this to you, muchacho?”

“My alpha. I did some things they didn’t like, said some things he didn’t like, left soon after that.”

The man growled low in his throat and turned away from him to look at his boys who Stiles only could guess were his pack. 

“Never to your pack. You never should hurt your pack in such away. You are not pack now, correct?”

“They severed the bond before this happened. They didn’t know it had happened as I did.”

“Accidental?”

“Maybe but they didn’t care. I’m here looking for a friend we lost.”

“In Mexico, Chihuahua?”

“Somewhere round here, we didn’t really have much to go on other than a Calavera stamped bullet.”

His eyes flashed red again as he growled low in his throat, “muchacho, they are rough even for hunters. It’s taken some time to create a peace treaty with them. They will be hard to bargain with over your friend, especially if he is supernatural.”

“I want to ask a favour, Mr alpha wolf, the family I was with before you attacked me, are they okay?”

“Adelia called us Mr Stiles, Ezio said you smelled weird.”

“They’re wolves?”

“Ezio is, bitten. Many of our community ask for the bite near death. Adelia didn’t want to lose her son as well as her husband. He’s a trained beta, the Calavera’s disliked our methods but they understand our community.”

Stiles nodded, he could understand a community’s drive to accept and also use their resources, this full acceptance of the wolves into their lifestyle was enough to drive his new instance for a better life. He wanted to make something of himself in the supernatural world, to help them to make more accepting communities like the ones these wolves were living in. It was a world he wanted, one where hunters were only required for rogues not ones who wanted to just get on with their lives in the present as if they were normal every day people. 

The wolf scratched at his face and then looked back from his pack to Stiles, “we wanted to make sure you were not a threat to our community, knowing that you are here to find your friend even from the Calavera’s is enough to know you are not. I am sorry your pack did such things to you, it is not right. I am Arturo, alpha of the Morales pack. My second in command Carlos and his brothers Jorge and Daniel.”

He introduced them as he went around, the four of them were a lot more open to him than they had been when he had first woken up when they had been crowded round him threatening him and only hoping to protect their little community and their littlest beta Ezio. Stiles couldn’t be happier that he had made this trip if only to meet these new people, more supernatural outside of the McCall and Hale pack. 

Arturo smiled for the first time and Stiles smiled hesitantly back, he liked them he did, but also he still wasn’t over the fact they’d woken him up with strangulation and he clearly wasn’t as freaked as he should have been. 

He shifted on his feet remembering for a fact he was dressed in only his underpants and his socks, he really had a lack of extra clean clothes, he hadn’t spent anywhere he could do his laundry properly as of yet. He’d packed three spare t-shirts, a weeks worth of underpants and an extra pair of jeans. He didn’t have the space to pack a suitcase full of clothes and he really hadn’t given that much thought either. 

He reached to the side of him and snagged his shirt, turning he heard a growl rip out of one of the four Mexicans stood before him. Pulling it over himself he frowned at the look on their faces and waved his hand to see what they were about. 

“Your leg, hermano, your alpha do that too?”

“I said some nasty things about some of the things that happened to us. I didn’t expect for him to snap as he did. I was leaving there before he snapped it only quickened up the process.”

“It is not right, Mr Stiles. Packs have your back they do not attack.”

Stiles laughed at Carlos’ words they were true as anything and he only wished they’d crossed the border from Mexico to America and made it to Beacon Hills before his friends had turned against him for something he could not help or have changed despite how much they might have wanted him to. 

Arturo clapped Stiles on the arm in a friendly manner, “okay Mr Stiles, we will go, but when you need to get to the Calavera’s ask Adelia and we’ll come to show you. They’re somewhat hidden, my friend.”

“Thank you, Arturo.”

The boys each clapped him on the shoulder as they left the little room Ezio had set him up in. His hands moved to his jeans and pulled them back on, he wanted to go speak to the sneaky little wolf and his mother who had ratted him in. He didn’t resent them, they were protecting themselves, they needed that but he would have more so appreciated being asked about his involvement with supernaturals over being threatened and attacked for a specific scent he had not even thought would still linger. 

Ezio was standing ashamed in the kitchen space, Adelia standing guiltily off to the side. They were both watching him move towards them, their eyes on his bags, worried and apologetic. 

“Sorry, señor.”

“I understand, Ezio. Pack over strangers, kid. I got you.”

The little wolf launched himself at Stiles and Adelia grinned at them. Stiles really wondered how he hadn’t picked up on the super strength on that little boy from the start. He really wasn’t trying to think about anyone being supernatural in Mexico, he figured he probably didn’t want to think about it. He wanted a new start, he clearly did not want to come somewhere new and be followed by everything he saw in California everywhere he went. But now he saw the excitability and the puppy dog quirks that Ezio had. 

“We thought maybe you were wolf too. Arturo said to trust Ezio. I do.”

Stiles approached Adelia with a soft smile, he understood completely. 

“I’m not a wolf, no. I knew wolves, sure, but your pack is better.”

Ezio was hugging his legs still, he’d found people who liked him more in a day than his old pack seemed to treat him in three years. That hurt him in ways he didn’t like to think about, he was out here away from his dad to find himself, find his magic and find who he was outside of his pack. He didn’t want to be thinking about everything he’d been missing out on. It hurt so much. 

Ignoring it he juggled his bag onto his back and smiled at the two of them once again. He’d wanted to stay at one place for a night he hadn’t wanted to hold onto two people, he needed to find himself before he found new family. 

“I wanted to say thank you for letting me into your home last night. I understand that you wanted me by you to make sure I wasn’t going to harm any of your community and fair be it. But you took me in despite that and I really wanted to thank you. I wanted to find somewhere to sleep and then move on, and you brought me in and even introduced me to people who can help me find who I’m looking for. Thank you so much.”

Adelia touched her heart with her hand, she understood most of what he’d said to her, missed a few bits of course but she understood the centre bones of it and he appreciated that. Ezio looked upset where he stood by his mother, he’d accepted this other deformed being as someone special to his heart and now Stiles was leaving them and he had to know that he had opened his heart and that person had gone now. 

Stiles leaned down to look at him, he ran a hand across the burnt flesh of the little boys face, “you are special, Ezio, no matter how you look. Our outsides don’t portray our insides, kiddo. We’ll see one another again, we will.”

“Señor Stiles, you be okay? Where you go?”

“I’m finding a friend Ezio, he’s hurt out here and I came to find him.”

“Okay.”

Stiles smiled at the kid, he sure did like his innocence and his worries for someone who he had only known the shortest period. Maybe he should start treating people such a way, treat them like he can love every part of them in such a short period. He thought maybe that would be something to live by, little Ezio’s point of view. 

Adelia held her phone out to him, Arturo’s name held the banner at the top of the screen followed by a number of texts previously shared between the two of them. 

Stiles took it with a smile, knowing this pack was so adamant to protect him in his movement towards the Calavera’s who were clearly somewhat close by considering the aforementioned treaty between the Morales pack and the Calavera’s hunters. 

He set the phone down for a minute as he pulled a pad of paper from his bag he wrote down his number and his name. He handed it to Adelia with a small smile and the intention that he very clearly meant it for them to call him. He wanted to be there for the most supportive little family he had ever met. 

“I want you to know you can call me, I’m Stiles and I’m a magic user. You’re people who have taken care of me when I needed somewhere to go and I want to give back to you guys and Arturo and the Morales pack whenever you need the help. Even a call or I’ll come back and find you. I’m here if you need it, I promise.”

Adelia reached forwards and pulled him into a hug. 

Ezio pulled at his sleeve again, “magic, Stiles?”

Stiles gave it some thought, he’d never imagined himself using it for himself before and he knelt down to look the little boy in the eyes again. He held out his hand and pushed, for the first time he visualised some sort of physical embodiment of his magic on his palm. 

He opened his eyes to see the remains of a wolf created in non-harmful golden flames in the palm of his hands. Ezio clapped his hands together and smiled, he wasn’t repulsed and he wasn’t scared and Stiles had managed to get his magic to cooperate with him for the first time. Maybe there was hope for finding himself out in the future. 

He picked up the phone and shot off a text to Arturo to let him know he planned on going to find the Calavera’s very soon. Arturo’s response was almost immediate, they’d be there to lead him to their compound soon. 

His blue jeep was parked outside when he stepped out of the door, he supposed the pack had it moved in the night for him or maybe even that morning. Whatever had happened, he trusted them to some degree and he was only glad that it looked for the most part untouched. Though really he wouldn't have been amiss to know that they were within their right to check he wouldn't be a threat. 

He felt happy to know that he wasn’t just leaving Adelia and Ezio high and dry but instead with his number knowing he would always come back, and knowing that he was not useless, that there was no reason not to call him back because he could handle himself amidst the wolves that he had met there. 

Arturo honked his truck's horn as he reached them, he pulled it up ahead of the blue jeep and grinned, waving his hand as if to say whenever you’re ready Mr Stiles and Stiles sure appreciated it. 

He threw his bag into the backseat of the jeep and opened the driver's side door, he grinned when he heard little Ezio’s voice shouting out his name from the door. 

“Stiles!” The little boy's feet pattered down the little path that led down to his jeep. 

He turned around and knelt down to greet the little boy, Ezio held something black and gold in his hands and grinned as he transferred it across to Stiles’ own waiting hands. 

He looked over the heavy plastic and grinned, it was a mask, it was a really pretty black and gold lion mask that Stiles moved to pull over his face almost immediately. Ezio grinned and ran his hands over the mask that was hiding Stiles’ face. 

“León.”

“Lion.”

Ezio grinned and attempted to copy his accent “Lie-on.”

“Right on, buddy!” 

Ezio laughed and accepted the high five that was offered by Stiles, just as Stiles was happy to take the mask that Ezio had given him. 

Arturo hooted the horn from where he was waiting in his truck ahead of the blue jeep. Ezio grinned and wandered back to his house where Adelia was watching them from the doorway of the small yet big house. 

He climbed into his truck, set the mask down on his passenger seat and pulled out as Arturo moved, they were going to see about the Hale, he only hoped he didn't bump into a few choice people it might only make the situation a bit worse if that was entirely possible of course.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy that people are liking this as much as I am, I have a whole bunch of ideas to play with and I hope I can get them all to translate here as well as they do in my brain. Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Enjoy!

The town Arturo led him to was dusty and rustic. It was everything Stiles had imagined Mexico to look like, it was both scary and beautiful. His hairs stood on end as he looked upon the buildings.

Arturo jumped out of the cab of the truck leaving Jorge behind the wheel as Carlos jumped out of the bed of the truck, he looked much less rattled than Stiles had thought he would after spending half an hour in a metal box as they crossed the rough terrain. Werewolf powers, Stiles mused happily thinking lightly of this new situation instead of worried about the situation to come.

Carlos smiled as he hooked the plastic mask out of Stiles’ passenger seat. “León, it is a fierce look for you, Mr Stiles.”

Arturo nodded his agreement as he led Stiles further into the courtyard so they stood opposite a huge guarded door that he was sure was the one he must have been meant to enter.

Arturo motioned his head to the huge guard then turned his attention back to Stiles, “this is where we leave you, hermano. The head of the Calavera’s, Araya, will appreciate the balls on you. Wear the mask too, león, it will instil a fierceness you will need. The smells inside are familiar, your pack may be here or they have been. Trust your instincts. We will wait. Good luck, Mr Stiles.”

Stiles apprehensively took the mask from Carlos and slipped it back over his face, the plastic cool against his skin. The men nodded as they looked him over, everything that defined made him himself was covered up and hidden away so he would not be recognisable to whoever he may know beyond those doors.

Behind that mask, he wasn’t the dorky broken seventeen-year-old boy, but instead, someone who those wolves believed could talk down a Calavera hunter and get her to release his friend to him. He could be dangerous, he could be mean, deep down he didn’t want to be but he was glad to have the option. If things really were about to go haywire he was glad to know he had some power on his side even if he didn’t fully know what it amounted to.

It was strange to know too that these wolves he had known little more than a morning were going to be waiting for him on the other side of this confrontation and to know that he trusted them even more so in their words.

He watched as the man guarding the big wooden door stepped aside and held it open, being in contact with a pack that the Calavera’s may have considered allies was seemingly the best thing Stiles had done since he got there. He trembled as he stepped inside and began to follow the awaiting hunter that he hoped was instructed to lead him further into their compound of operations. He hoped, even more, that he was taking him to their leader.

He hadn’t planned this far ahead, yesterday all he’d known was that he was close, he was near enough that he could sleep and then get to planning his next steps. Now he was here and he hadn’t had nearly enough time to mentally prepare himself for people that allegedly managed to take sourwolf Derek Hale from beneath their noses in Beacon Hills.

It was a scary predicament to be in and he feared for his life. He also feared for his sanity, he wasn’t sure what he would do if he ran into Scott McCall here, he wasn’t stalking them he swears, he’s just looking for the same guy he refused to help them find. He was sure that would go down impeccably well.

His teeth were worrying his bottom lip and his fingers repeated a routine of clenches and slightly sweaty flutters. He was nervous, nervous even to the untrained eye. He was a high school drop out about to go face to face with a deadly hunter that even the grown alpha Arturo had called rough. All this really instilled confidence in Stiles.

The man said nothing to him as they walked down darkened corridors, corridors that had locked doors, barred windows and broken glass. It was quite a frightening experience that he didn’t enjoy and really regretted even stepping foot in alone. He was here for Derek, to speak to these Calavera’s, he knew they weren’t unreasonable if they were willing to work with the Morales way of being. He knew all this but he was still worried, there were too many things that could happen, too many variables and he had planned for none. Before all this, his superpowers were research and planning, just because he had magic didn't mean he still couldn't plan. He needed his planning, he needed it to keep his sanity.

A pained howl echoed down the corridor and the man leading him stiffened up considerably, Stiles felt his hands shake but he buried them down into his jeans pockets. He was strong, he was dangerous, he was the lion. He would be the lion and he would not be taken apart by hunters he had never encountered before.

The man pushed open a door and gestured for him to enter ahead of him. The room was richly dressed with robust furnishings and regal colourings. It was empty of people and Stiles felt fully out of place, he was a very small person somewhere that was huge and full of people who were ultimately much bigger than himself.

He shifted on his feet by the wide wooden desk, he didn’t want to sit down in fear of offending his new host. But he knew he needed to do something to keep his attention off of the worries streaming through his mind in a constant reel of film.

His fingers danced across the worn fabric of his jeans, nervousness plus ADHD was not something he could say was a good mixture. He was jumpy and jittery, and he could feel the energy bubbling up inside of him desperate for an out. He worried some about this energy he was shaking with, he couldn't have it react badly if someone did come at him, his issues with control were clearly at the forefront of his mind.

He’d been waiting nearly fifteen minutes alone in the decadently furnished room with only his paranoid thoughts to keep him company. He could hear little but the disjointed echoes of screams and groans that travelled from their origins within the compound. More and more he didn’t want to be there, he wanted to skulk out and hide behind the strength and community of the Morales pack. He didn’t want to think about what Arturo told him, that Scott might be here, that those screams might be his. It hurt his heart to even think about them hurting, he couldn't not care.

He puffed out his chest and took a deep staggering breath, he was here for Derek, he might be here for Scott. But he was here to assert an image of strength to the Morales pack, he couldn’t be seen as weak by another group of people, not again. Whatever his reasons for being there were, he was here now and he couldn’t abandon all of himself for the fear he felt every time he stepped even a centimetre beyond his comfort zone.

Wiping his sweaty fingers against the fabric of his jeans he made sure his mind was made up, there was no going back once he’d followed through. He made those confident steps towards the large wooden door, he wrapped his hand around the ornate doorknob and threw it open.

The man startled and lifted his gun against Stiles, he flinched but didn’t step back, he couldn’t do that.

“You must wait.”

Stiles snarled, the sound mutilated by the mask that still adorned his face. He hoped the intent in his eyes shone through, he would not be someone that they thought they could trifle with, he could not be weak in the face of these hunters.

“No. If your leader will not speak to me now then I am gone. I am not someone you can leave waiting.”

The man's lips quirked up grimly, he didn’t believe Stiles, to the man he was just a kid. He was someone trying to act tough in a world he didn’t belong in.

Stiles felt his lips pull back into a snarl, he knew he couldn’t see more than angry eyes behind a black mask but there were things you could just sense and Stiles’ magic was not being so helpful to him at this point, it was giving him neither vibes for or against the place he was in. It wasn’t overflowing dangerously but he’d sought out a connection with it when he had conjured the golden wolf for Ezio, he could feel it simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. He'd given it an outlet and he worried any break in his resolve could lead it to leak out everywhere he didn't want it to.

He clenched his hand at his side, he imagined pearls of gold wrapping around his fingertips, he had wanted something dangerous, something controllable but intimidating. He couldn’t just be a kid hiding behind the mask of a lion.

He could see himself in the reflection of the man’s eyes, noting wildly how his right eye burned bright as he focused more and more on the formation of something tangible to the world.

The man stuttered, his strong bravado falling as he watched the anger in Stiles’ eyes build, the gold overtaking his entire broken eye. He lifted his hand for the first time to see the flames licking across his fingers.

The man struggled with his gun but it fell to his side anyway, “El Brujo.”

The words flew out of his mouth like a whispered prayer on his lips. His eyes wide and his mouth agape, there was something about Stiles that scared him and he revelled in that fact.

Stiles faintly remembered translating the words in his head but he didn’t register its meaning. It was just another word, just another name, something else to hide behind. If they didn’t know him as weak as Stiles could be, he could newly be represented as something as dangerous as El Brujo.

His connection to the magic built and built, the gold becoming soul consuming, he did not have the control for this absolute show of strength and it was becoming obvious with the way the flames licked at his skin crawling up his arms. His control was slipping as his fear built, the flames only took it as fuel and it did little to quell his power.

A gun went off and the flames died. He’d lost his concentration. He felt a breath of relief leave him, he never wanted to wholly lose control ever again, he could not lose himself like this.

The person wielding the gun was watching him with an unrecognisable look in her eye even as her men began to escort the man he’d frightened away from the scene.

“If you could refrain from burning my compound down that would be preferable.”

Stiles nodded his acknowledgement of her words, her accent reminding him he was no longer in familiar territory, this was their space. He already felt ashamed for letting it get as out of control as it had.

She motioned for him to reenter the decadent room and he complied with no further pushing for it. She cleaned the blood off of her hands on a towel she had waiting on her desk. She took a seat on the big chair behind the desk and motioned for him to take the seat opposite, he complied if only to calm his nervous hands by trapping them beneath his thighs on the seat.

“So, my men say you came into town with Arturo Morales, what can we help you with, brujo?”

Stiles laughed for the first time as his brain’s translation function caught up with him, “Brujo? The wizard? Your people make me sound like a character from the Wizard of Oz.”

Her laugh was brash and uncooperative but she followed the joke with her own remark, “well you are not the cowardly lion, that is given. We will work on the name, Señor. For now introductions, I am Araya Calavera the leader of this family, and you?”

Stiles nodded, he knew they had to get to the reasons he was there with them now, there was surely no other time for it unless they wanted to keep up the useless small talk that flitted between them as awkward as Stiles had imagined it would be.

“For now I will take brujo, but I am open to suggestions, and I’m looking into your involvement with the Derek Hale disappearance in Beacon Hills.”

She leant back in her chair and pursed her lips, “you are not the first to come here looking for Derek Hale, as we have said before we do not have anything to do with that wolf’s disappearance.”

Stiles nodded and set his arms on the wood of the tabletop, he wasn’t about to be intimidated by someone who hadn’t yet given him any reason to be.

“Okay, if you are not involved do you know anything?”

“Tell me, wizard, why should I tell you what I know when there is a pack downstairs waiting on the same information.”

Stiles felt himself grow hot at her response, it was the first time he’d been given any information to confirm his fears that they held his old pack contained in this compound, even that whatever blood she had just wiped off of herself might have been theirs. Warmblood pounded in his veins, as the anger settled in his chest. His heartbeat echoed in his ears and he fought to keep a handle on the broken chains that were attempting to keep the magic within him at bay.

She saw his internal struggle and quirked an eyebrow.

“You know of this pack, wizard.”

“I believe I do. Insufferable alpha? Fox, Coyote and Banshee?”

Her smile grew as she nodded and she moved into more of a forthcoming position in her behaviour, more than happy to discuss them over Derek Hale.

“Mhmm, the banshee was less impressive than I had thought she would be, but then they all are, the alpha relies on the notion that everyone will bow down to him as a true alpha. We hunters do not give the same power to useless titles that supernaturals care for. Do you?”

“I used to. I care more for the true spirit of people and supernaturals alike over titles that can be both wrong or right.”

“You know of these creatures I speak of, your eyes hold fondness.”

Stiles scoffed, “I care about the wellbeing of Beacon Hills in their absence, I would not call that an aspect of fondness.”

She chuckled and leaned closer to him, “Is that why you keep your face covered?”

He let his fingers trail over the dark plastic, “it was a gift from a boy I met here, but it covers up some damage both internal and external.”

The woman nodded, neither forcing him to take it off only suggesting it by the look on her face.

He trailed his fingers down to the bottom of it before he pulled it up off of his face. It was never a secret to him, he was injured and it was him now there was nothing else he could identify it as. Really it was the way that he could accept his true purpose, to help, to get out there in the world and help.

She leaned forward to take in his scars then shook her head, “I cannot understand why you would continue to try to save the supernaturals when clearly one of them did this to you.”

“I can admit this was a painful way to realise that they no longer wanted me around but there are more good seeds than bad seeds and I just want to help my friend.”

“Scott McCall did this to you? He is downstairs you can see him if you would like.”

“No. He shouldn’t know I’m here, I don’t want him to know.”

“He is not aware you are a wizard?”

“He is not, and I would prefer it if it remained that way.”

She nodded, clearly not understanding to a greater extent why he wanted it this way but she was clearly willing to let it remain how he wished.

“And would you like us to tell you about Hale and release those I have downstairs?”

“I would like no more than that, however, I am sure that they will not give up trying to save Derek almost as much as me, so if you could let them go take my friend home I will owe you a favour.”

Her eyes sparkled as she realised his intentions of her, he wanted the best for the world whatever that entailed and that meant letting some of the people he hoped never to see again back out in the world.

“Alright, I will let them find Hale. We have had reports that La Loba may be holding him in the Mexican Jaguar temple in La Iglesia. We have hunted her for many months and they will be in terrible danger entering without a guide.”

Stiles frowned, “can you provide a guide?”

“For a price.”

He quirked his head to the side and waved his hand, “go on.”

“An assertion from the alpha that he will turn no more kids in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles pursed his lips but nodded, “Scott will agree to that.”

She nodded, rising from the table, “I have decided on a name for you since you did not like, El Brujo. Manticore.”

Stiles frowned, “from the Persian myth?”

“Sí, Manticore. The head of the human, the body of the lion and the sting of the scorpion. A metaphor if you would prefer, your strength in your human side, your resilience beyond the mask of the lion and the sharp wit of your mind. Manticore.”

Stiles hummed, he didn’t dislike it.


	7. Chapter 7

Araya walked down the steps of her corridor to where she had left the less impressive than she had imagined pack to stew in the pain she had caused them. 

She disliked even entertaining the idea of letting a pack out of their grasp and back into the world, however, she’d made a promise to someone she couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of trust in. He was a boy, a boy who had refused to say anything of his background except that he was from Beacon Hills and even then he’d been much less hassle than the four Californians she held in her basement. 

He hadn’t been aggressive nor had he insulted her intelligence. He had spoken to her as a person over the idea that she was just a hunter that could not be reconciled with. She gathered that maybe it might have had something to do with his contact with the Morales pack before he came to them but it still left her gladdened to have come into contact with such a person. 

He refused to acknowledge that she had allowed him to see them where they were locked in the basement, yet he had been adamant that they needed to go back to where they came from and they needed to be the ones to get Hale back into the world. 

He was not in it to redeem himself, he was not in it to prove himself, he clearly knew he was more than they had previously seen him as but he didn’t seem to care for them knowing. 

Araya was amused to know that as usual, she knew more about the wolves than the wolves did even if it meant a fierce young wizard willing to put his feelings aside to protect people who had abandoned him. 

She ordered her men to open the doors even as they gave her the look of people newly confused at her tactics. She did not have to explain all of her choices to them, all they had to know was that she would always do what was right for the family. 

She entered the room and looked over the four of them huddled in the corner, she allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she addressed them. 

“You are free to go, I have organised a guide to take you to where we assume Derek Hale is being held. Before you can go I would like the knowledge that you will not turn anyone else in Beacon Hills, if you agree to this we will never have to come to Beacon Hills with a more violent purpose.”

Scott struggled to his feet, using the wall as leverage to help him up, his eyes wide with disbelief at what she was saying to them. 

“Why?”

“A mutual friend made a bargain, Manticore sends his regards. Do you agree to our terms?”

“Why should we agree to anything you’ve said when you’ve kept us here and tortured us?”

“The bargain was for your lives and the information on the Hale wolf, but only if you agreed to not turn anyone else. Derek Hale violated a number of laws that were put in place for human safety, it is inadvisable to turn any more people without a reasonable excuse. We are not unreasonable to work with if you agree to our terms.”

Scott turned to gather the advice from the members of his pack still slumped on the floor. He nodded after a couple of seconds, “I agree to your terms.”

She clapped her hands and nodded, “your guide will be outside waiting for you when you make your way out.”

With that she turned on her heel and left, leaving Scott to mull over what he had just learnt in a matter of minutes. It was more information in a couple of minutes than they’d gotten for nearly two days of being there. That was just embarrassing.

Lydia pulled herself up to standing by using the wall and Scott’s form as a crutch. 

“Who does she mean, mutual friend, do you think?”

Scott shook his head, his breaths still coming out in short puffs as if he was still asthmatic, “Argent maybe, hunters might talk?”

She shook her head, her intelligent brain trying to think over everything she could put together with no reasonable explanation for any of it. It was not enough to have a guess, it was never a good thing to owe anyone anything significant like a life debt, whoever this Manticore was they had stopped them dying in a hunters den and had also bargained for the information they had come for. How on earth could they have known they were here for one, and also that they’d wanted to find Derek Hale? 

They had told no one they were going to Mexico in search of Derek Hale, to Beacon Hills they were on a camping trip. Only Stiles, but last she’d heard he’d been in a coma in the hospital unless he’d spoken to someone before his accident, but before that he was coming with them and they’d all agreed to keep it a secret. It was all a mystery. 

They hadn’t even spoken to Chris Argent since he and Isaac had packed up and left for France in the wake of Allison dying. He could have maybe been keeping tabs on them but she assumed he was still grieving and likely didn't have time for that, one of the main reasons he'd left was to get away from the supernatural reason his daughter had died. All of this was too confusing to have a real answer. 

There were so many questions that had no answers, someone out there had rescued them, someone had bargained something so valuable to the Calavera’s that they had agreed to let them go it was unthinkable. Why would anyone do anything for free?

Lydia helped Kira her to her feet, her mind processing information a mile a minute, but not one of the reasonable answers was enough to explain anything. She could not piece anything together, absolutely none of it. None of it made any sense.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles watched them leave the compound from a window at the front of the building, that provided an unparalleled view of the entirety of the courtyard that was present between all of the buildings. The glass was foggy and dirty, to begin with, and he placed hope in the idea that their experience had been so painful that they wouldn’t dare look back on the building again. 

He wanted to be the one to choose their next meeting if there ever would be one, he would not be cornered into them being annoyed that he never told them that he had magic. That was not what he wanted them to take out of what had happened, they had let him go, it was not their right to any of the knowledge he had gained since then. 

But he couldn't say he didn't care, if he didn't care he wouldn't have watched them leave the compound, he would have just got on with his life where it now existed in a different world. He did care and he definitely wanted them to survive, if only to make sure that the beacon that was Beacon Hills was forever monitored, they were good for that. 

He did care, he had got them released, he’d gotten them the information they needed on where Derek was, he only hoped that they found him there. He couldn’t go with them, he wanted to, but he knew he didn’t want to talk to them, he didn’t want to acknowledge he was any different. He just wanted his own life and for the first time, he needed it. This was all good for him. This new name, Manticore, this new persona, the strong one, the wizard, he didn’t need them tearing apart all he’d built for himself even in such a short time. That wasn’t what he needed. 

There was sound behind him and he stiffened up but turned slowly, he didn’t want to seem jumpy nor flighty. He’d promised them a favour so it meant he couldn’t even show his slight fear of the daunting hunters he had managed to surround himself in. 

Araya was stood observing him with one of her minions who had a very angry looking face. Stiles had his arms crossed over his chest as he’d watched his old pack manoeuvre their way past Arturo’s snarl and Carlos practically holding his alpha back away from them. He'd wanted to warn them that the pack would be making their way out but he also to some degree kind of wanted to see what they would do in the situation. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been filled with more serious and nervous energy. 

“Are you sure you do not want to go with them?”

Stiles shook his head turning his back to the window, “I can’t help them this time, I want to make sure they get him out of there safely but what good am I when I can’t even control myself, I could cause them more harm than help.”

Araya nodded then motioned for the man next to her to step forward, “This is Severo if I send him and some of the Morales pack to watch out for these people of yours would that soothe this?”

Stiles blinked, she was so calmly offering to send an escort for people who she had originally assumed he hated. All this politics that went along with maintaining the peace was enough to have Stiles' head spinning, he understood to maintain an alliance you might need to compromise but he had neither suggested this or asked for it, this was all them. 

“Why?”

Araya shrugged, “we have a debt to pay to someone who once resided in La Iglesia, we’d need someone proficient in magic to work it out, your favour as you suggested in our bargain.”

Stiles nodded, “I would very much appreciate it if that could happen, but I am afraid I would not be in an adequate amount of control of my magic to even begin to help.”

“We can resolve that, Manticore, we have our resources too.”

“Alright.” He bowed his head and wet his lips, relying on these people felt wrong but they had not yet done anything against him and he knew it was worth everything in him to provide the help to anyone he came across. 

He had to be that person. 

He couldn’t ignore people just because they might hurt someone if he didn’t follow some sort of code of ethics then he would have let Araya keep Scott locked up in their compound. He had to be better, he had to be someone he could be proud of and someone his dad wouldn’t be ashamed of. He was the new and improved Stiles and he would be better. 

Araya motioned for Severo to leave but it was accompanied by her own stream of Spanish, Stiles wondered if she wanted to send someone anyway so that she could keep an eye on them and used Stiles’ connection with them to implement that. Either way it worked out. 

When it was just Stiles and Araya she motioned her head for him to follow her, she intended to speak to him and it wasn’t within his control to deny her that. He was in her territory, there was little he could do against her when she had an arsenal of guns and he was just a ticking time bomb. 

Granted he didn’t want to bring the fight to her yet, it wasn’t worth the aggravation it would cause, people would be hunting him, he wouldn’t be in peace with it all. He needed to be free he didn’t need the worry that he was already in so much danger that he needed to retreat back home to behind the protection of people he didn’t even know would want to protect him. 

Right now he wanted allies, he wanted to make good on promises and favours, that’s what he needed.   
He followed her down those darkened corridors he’d walked through only an hour before, and yet the darkness felt a lot different now knowing who was inside this compound, knowing some of what they believed in and that they really just wanted to follow through with their beliefs against the supernaturals. Really he couldn’t argue against anyone trying to do what they believed in only if they began to do it against him or anyone he cared about. 

He would trust them until they gave him a reason not to. 

Araya walked fast for a small woman and she spoke as she walked only to make all of this a lot more efficient. 

“I have some ideas on how to control your magic, it is very rare to meet a human magic user even more so one that clearly wasn’t aware of who they were until they were older, I have a few contacts that would be excited to talk you through some plans. Even more so the magic you will need to implement once your friends have taken Hale from the temple.”

“I’m willing to try.”

“Perfect. And your debt will be fulfilled after, though I will be insistent to maintain some contact between us over the time.”

“I would not be opposed, I feel that maintaining allies is one of the reasons peace exists.”

She hummed in agreement with his sentiments as she entered a new room, it was pretty much completely empty apart from two pillows on the floor and a candle set up between them. Araya did nothing but wait silently by the door, Stiles was itching for some instruction he couldn’t not feel completely awkward when they hit a lull in the conversation. None of this was comfortable for him, he was in a hunter filled compound with people who would likely kill him if he stepped out of line, he couldn’t help his paranoia it was the only thing natural to him at this point, well that and his ADHD. 

Someone pushed through the door and Stiles found himself immediately intimidated by this brick wall of a man that maybe hit 6’5” and weighed maybe double of Stiles, he was utterly immense. 

“Manticore, this is Diego. I have to go deal with the family business.”

She greeted Diego with a nod and soon left them in a room alone together, good that was exactly what Stiles had wanted when he had seen the wall. 

Diego motioned to the pillows and proceeded to take a seat on one of them allowing for him to sit on the other. 

“You must focus on the candle.”

Stiles wet his mouth, he was utterly confused and terrified by the whole experience and none of this was making him any less scared. 

“And do what?”

“Watch it. It is an exercise in control, being aware of your self, your breathing and your mind. So you can turn back to focusing on your breathing when you think you are losing control.”

The Mexican wall was teaching him meditation, the biggest and scariest hunter in the world was sitting him down and teaching him meditation. Everything was changing to him now wasn’t it, the hunters were taking care of him, a strange Mexican pack had basically adopted him and Scott had tried to kill him. All new experiences for Stiles. 

The breathing went on for a near hour but he felt marginally more peaceful the longer he spent there, with every moment he focused on his breath and not his ADHD infused hands he was getting closer and closer to that spark inside of him. It was an exercise for control and he really believed that it might have been having a real impact on him. 

Diego had excused himself some time in their hour and yet he felt more at peace with himself than he had in a really long time. He had moved to closing his eyes as he focused on the energy thrumming through the room, the magic that existed in somewhere that was so attached to the pureness of an ancestral background, the spirits attached to the soil, trapped, the energy that moved the flame of the candle. Absolutely everything could be touched by the energy that was building within him and the more and more he felt it become tethered within him the more he could access of the worlds energy. 

He laid his open hands on his knees, letting his palms face the ceiling, he didn’t want to create anything he just wanted to mould it, he wanted to encourage the flames, to build them into shapes, to see what he could do. 

He opened his eyes as he watched himself alter the status of the fire, little animals danced around the room brought to life in smoke and animated by him. His fingers danced as they moved, his mind solely on his intention with a focus on his breathing, he could not break his control, he couldn’t trust himself when he wasn’t in control. How would he expect people to trust him if he couldn’t even trust himself, it was the epitome of hypocrisy. 

Someone laughed behind him and the animals disappeared, the flame sputtered out and he snapped out of his trance. 

“Good work, Manticore. I brought books.”

Araya set two large leather-bound books onto the floor beside him, the inscriptions on them were familiar yet hard to understand, he could recognise them but it hurt to try. 

He picked up the first one and set it in his lap. His entire being tingled as he came into contact with the book. Opening up the front page he felt himself slip into his trance-like state once again. The words began to slide along pages, symbols became letters and as everything came into place he noticed the gold like aura around him, he was absorbing knowledge like you wouldn’t believe, his magic sought out what it knew, what his ancestors had passed down in blood. He was a witch, he was a wizard, he was a warlock and everything slid to the forefront of his mind as he sat there. 

His trembling increased and the energy in the room thrummed with electricity. He’d electrified the room without even knowing it. 

With every thing he read and absorbed more changes occurred to the room around him, snow fell, wind wailed, plants grew and the candle was relit. 

Araya watched with a reverent look, she had said she’d never met a magic user before but she had never said she wasn’t prepared for it. The books in her possession were so slick with magic even humans could feel it. For magic users it was more so, they were more attuned to the power in everything, and he was clearly completely magic, there was little she could think of to say but powerful. If she hadn’t already spoken to him and realised his need for tutorship she might have been tasked with killing him, his intentions were good so far, but he would be a dangerous enemy if it turned out that way. 

The gold surrounded him like a barrier, a shield, and it all originated from the blindingly gold surface of his scarred right eye, it shimmered in its existence like a filmy substance coating his entire body. Whatever he had been through had moulded him into the one magic user in the world that had likely been spoken of for some time. He was an elemental, he was all powerful, he was dangerous. 

The gold began to pulse, and the trembling of his limbs picked up. There was a ‘pop’ and the gold dimmed, the book was thrown across the room and forcefully closed with a ‘bang’, Manticore fell to the floor unmoving, he would have been dead if only for the strangled sound of his breathing that echoed through the room. 

She rushed forwards, her ears popping and her throat hoarse as she screamed out for some assistance. The barrier on him hadn't disappeared it only had become of a more invisible creation, her fingers sizzled as they went to check for a pulse. 

His throat was gasping for air and his eyes were closed, something dangerous had happened and instead of letting it out as he had previously, he had internalised it. 

The barrier lifted and her ears popped all over again, she flinched back as his eyes burned gold again until she began to note the significant difference in his breathing. He rolled over onto his back, shaking fingers moving to grasp her hands, she watched transfixed as the gold in his eyes burnt brightly until it dimmed out and he fell back into unconsciousness. 

She looked down at her hands and her eyes widened, the burns she had received when touching him were completely healed. Whatever had happened, he had fixed it himself, he had healed his internal damage and he had even healed the skin of her fingers. It was all miracles at work and as a religious woman, she could feel little about it than blessed to have met the boy passed out on the floor in front of her.


	9. Chapter 9

He’d spent nearing three days inside the compound after his passing out incident, he’d learnt magic and he’d picked up new strengths. He needed to, he’d passed out because his body couldn’t handle the amount of power he’d tried to absorb in one go. He slept his nights there, his face pressed into books filled to the seams with magic and his hands trembling with the power. He dedicated hours of his days to meditation to control his magic. He was creating gates and cages for the energy within him, he was the only one who could have access to it, he had to keep his emotions in check, he had to be completely aware. 

Four days in Mexico and he was a new man (a seventeen-year-old man), Arturo had assured him that Scott and pack had made it out of Mexico safely, who he assumed was Derek Hale in tow - he'd said there was a new scent and that the person Scott had pulled out of the temple was somewhat familiar to him. There was little Stiles could do to refute that. The pack and the hunters had taken care of him and it was now his turn to return the favour. 

He’d exercised healing magic, consulted with spirits on protection spells, most everyone Araya had tried to bring in hadn’t had enough experience to deal with someone that held as much power within them as Stiles. 

He’d learnt most of what he knew himself. If he could get this far with what he had now, he felt assured to know that he had some chance in all of this, at least maybe. 

At the minute he could get by, he wasn’t in constant danger but he still had to hope he was getting his spells right rather than having it come naturally to him. But it had been four days, there was no way he could have become a fully fledged magician within four days, that shit took time. 

It was the first day that Stiles had actually agreed to maybe trying the spell to maintain La Iglesia, he did want to help he did, but he also didn’t want to get it wrong. He wanted to be completely prepared, but he understood it was a time-sensitive problem and that the temple could go down anytime now. It was a miracle it had lasted the past four days. 

Arturo was waiting for him by his jeep, the alpha had insisted upon coming with him as soon as he found out that Stiles was going to be there with just Severo and Araya as back up. 

The two Calavera’s hunters were already waiting for him outside, their own car prepared for the trip ahead of them, loaded up with any weapons they might have needed in case the threat was still present. They hadn't told him any more of the potential threat than the moniker 'La Loba' which apparently translated to 'the bone woman' so whatever that meant. It did, however, show Stiles that these Mexicans really did like naming things first La Loba and now Manticore, spooky. 

Araya handed Stiles a blanketed item, a small smile on her lips as she watched his face. 

He opened it up at her nod and felt himself relax as he felt the cool metal against his fingertips. 

“Figured a mask would be better if it protected you rather than 15 peso plastic.”

The metal mask was as much a replica of the one Ezio gave him as it could be. The black metal was decorated with ornate gold patterns around the edges and around the eyes. It connected to a set of two sturdy straps with buckles that flattened the mask against his face, both covering and protecting his scarred face. 

He nodded back at her and shook her hand. He was eternally grateful to them for this, it was just a gift that would mean especially something to him, they had put some thought into this. He could be permanently the Manticore with his shielded metal mask that these hunters had actually had crafted for him, even in the style of something he’d been gifted by a little boy. It was thought about, it was a thought driven gift and he was entirely pleased with it. 

Severo cocked his gun and motioned to the cars, Stiles nodded. If they wanted to get this done before the sun went down they would have needed to set off right away as they had planned before Stiles had been handed just a lovely gift. 

Arturo played the imaginary drums on the dashboard of his car as they drive, the man was maybe his late twenties early thirties but as far as Stiles had seen he had such a young soul. Rumours of the Morales Pack said he’d fought the alpha position away from its previous alpha, the man had apparently been ruthless in his running of the pack and had consistently only ever led his pack members into danger with no real care and that’s what Arturo had been fighting against all this time. If the rumours were to be believed Stiles figured it must have cost every miracle for Arturo to remain the young soul that he flaunted pretty regularly. 

The temple loomed into being in front of them, they were still a good half an hour away and Stiles could already feel the power and magic thrumming through him from that far away. 

It was a destroyed town, Araya had told him of the earthquake that had turned the once prettily populated town into a shell of its being. The colours were muted and the buildings were broken down and crumbling. But for all of its destruction, it was still beautiful, the church in the centre maintained wholly the centred attraction of the place, it was also the source of the underlying power thrumming through the area. 

“Your heartbeat picked up, are you okay?” Arturo paused his drumming to address Stiles beside him. 

Stiles smiled his assurance that he was fine, took one of his hands from the wheel and placed it on his chest, “I can feel the power of the place, whoever it was that had Derek trapped here it feels like they broke something here, they let something out. It’s a dark power, something is wrong here.”

Arturo frowned and sniffed the air, his red irises overcame the brown and one blink later it was gone, he shook his head. “I can’t sense anything.”

The two of them were an interesting yet useful mix, Arturo knew a lot more about his abilities than anyone in Beacon Hills - except maybe Peter - would have known, it meant that he could identify what someone was feeling through their scent, Stiles helped with that by reading auras. Together they were the worlds most effective lie detector. 

Stiles felt the pressure build as he thought to the amount of work he’d need to put into to even attempt to close this rift that was clearly present at this site. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead and his breathing picked up. Arturo looked across at him worried but Stiles shot a hand out to let him know he was okay, he focused on his breathing, he focused on the road. He had a long way to go to get to a point where he was going to be sure that he could do anything they needed him to. This was just something he’d have to figure out when they got there, he would need to remain in control and he would need to actually get there without causing a car accident on the way. 

There was time for him to panic when they got there, no panicking should happen in the car, that was only a recipe for disaster, and he'd been through enough of those. 

Arturo relaxed some as Stiles’ breathing evened out but he still remained tense, almost as if he was prepared to grab the wheel if Stiles completely tumbled out of control suddenly. It was annoying to think they couldn’t even trust him for something as little as this yet he felt like there was a certain weight taken off of his chest to know that if he did lose control they could stop him before it all went to pieces. They didn’t think he was weak, they didn’t think he couldn’t do this, they just had to know that there would be a plan B prepared if it didn’t happen. They thought in ‘if’s not in ‘when’s and that made his heart settle. As much as he trusted them, they trusted him and that made all of this so much easier to handle. Trust meant a lot to him and they seemed to accept that. 

Stiles slid his new mask onto his face and buckled it into position, the cool metal against his face felt very different from the plastic but in a way he also felt incredibly more badass, all he needed now was a cool sword and he’d look like one of those characters from his video games. 

In fact, this was like a quest in one of his video games, except he was now the main character rather than the sidekick. None of them there really fit into the sidekick category, well maybe Severo but he would have been Araya’s sidekick and nobody else’s. Really though him, Arturo and Araya were all the main characters of their own situations coming together to close a powerful rift that could be dangerous to the two communities living closest to it. If the church became a beacon in Chihuahua like the Nemeton was in Beacon Hills they could be facing a new problem that wasn’t the peace between the wolves and the hunters. There would be all sorts of different creatures making Chihuahua their new home and Stiles wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Beacon Hills and they were living with it. 

He felt ridiculously under prepared as they walked into the temple, Araya and Severo had their guns, Arturo had his claws, and Stiles had temperamental magic, he felt like he needed his bat, the familiar weight of the bat he’d left back in Beacon Hills. The trusty weapon that hadn’t even made him feel a little bit defended when he was in Beacon Hills and now that was all he wanted. 

The temple was eerily quiet and Stiles’ hairs all stood on end as he walked. The dark energy of the place tickled his entire being, he felt like someone was running their fingers up and down his arms, it was a ghostly feeling that had him slowly getting more and more wound up. He was losing it in a place where his friend had been held for god knows how long, there was no way he could leave this without actually trying to fix how wrong all of this felt. 

His skin crawled as they came to a junction in the tunnels, he had a bad feeling about all of this, three options, three tunnels. He looked around them, his instincts telling them to avoid one in particular. 

“Split up?” Araya suggested, and Stiles felt his heart plummet. He couldn’t let them go down the tunnel that felt so wrong to him. He knew there was something wrong and if worst came to worst he could lose control and let the temple fall down all around him. It was weird to think he would sacrifice himself for these people he hardly knew but that was what felt right to him, even if all he was feeling was wrong. 

Yep, that was the decision made, he was heading down the tunnel of doom where all the darkness originated. Good plan that. 

“I’ll take the right one.”

Arturo frowned at him clearly picking up on the elevated heartbeat. Stiles shook him off, “it’s just nerves, every bad thing happens in the horror movies when people split up, but we can all take care of ourselves? Right? Right? Come on, I’ll go that way, meet you back here in ten minutes, see what we each find, right?”

Arturo nodded though he didn’t look convinced, he moved to take the left tunnel and Araya and Severo settled for the one straight ahead. 

“Ten minutes, then back here,” Arturo confirmed before he stepped away into his own tunnel. 

Stiles took a staggered breath and took his first few steps, the cold wrapped over his whole body and he shuddered, something very wrong was ahead and he had ten minutes to find out what it was.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles took a staggered breath and took his first few steps, the cold wrapped over his whole body and he shuddered, something very wrong was ahead and he had ten minutes to find out what it was. Ten minutes both sounded like a lot of time and not a lot of time, he both couldn’t wait for that time to be over and he also couldn’t see it ending.

The cold hit him suddenly and he immediately regretted not dressing for all occasions, his short-sleeved t-shirt was just doing nothing to quell the shivers and the teeth chattering that he now had to put up with. He was dressed for the Mexican warmth, not the chilly climate he had stepped into as soon as he began traversing this tunnel.

Running his hands up and down his arms he continued to walk, it was a base instinct to attempt to warm himself up but he also knew it wasn’t helping any. His exhaled breaths were corporeal before his very eyes, it lingered in a cloud in front of his face and then faded away as he walked through it his movements slow and clunky. It was definitely unnaturally cold in the tunnel he was descending.

His fingers were becoming numb at an almost intense speed and he sought release as he buried them deep into the nooks of his armpits, the heat only lightly dusting over the intense cold that plagued the rest of his body.

He blew into his hands and found himself seizing up more so the very minutes he moved further into the tunnel. He’d made a mistake, of course, he had. Sure Stiles choose the one tunnel you know will be problematic, that works.

He tripped as he walked, his foot caught on something and he hit the floor like it was his job. His arm scraped over something and his foot ached. He contemplated just lying there forever and letting the cold take him like it seemed to want to.

Fighting his instincts he pulled himself up so he was sat up, his back rested against the dirty wall and he looked down at his arm even in the low light. He flinched as he pulled the splinter out of his arm, the blood dribbled from the hole and stuck to his pants. He grimaced and cradled his arm against his chest as he pushed himself further up off of the ground, and back onto unstable feet. He looked back to where he had tripped and felt a slow thought blink to the forefront of his mind, that could work.

He reached with his uninjured arm he snagged the log that had just been lying in the middle of the tunnel just waiting for to trip some unknowing moron on their way through.

His magic sparked in his fingers, the energy spread through his body like it was in his blood and he immediately warmed up some. He projected the image of a fire and watched as the log burnt bright letting him see down the tunnel and warming him considerably.

The cold lifted and he frowned, the fire made a welcome torch but he’d been getting on fine in the low light of the gaps in the ceiling but this lit everything like he’d invested in lightbulbs rather than setting a fire.

Shaking his head, he noted the feeling of wrongness too had lifted as soon as he had the lit the log on fire. His magic had quelled everything, it had assured him that he could do whatever was needed with this new problem they were facing, that whatever this wrongness was he could fight it.

He moved forwards like he couldn’t see the end of the tunnel with the light of the torch, but he assumed he still had time in his deadline of ten minutes to get back to the others and reconvene. To be fair he didn’t know what he was looking for, and he was operating under the assumption that he would know it when he found it, so whatever it was, it was all bound to go well that he was sure of.

A sound made him stop his movements, whatever it was it had echoed in the tunnels and he didn’t know whether had come from in front of him or from behind.

His hairs stood on end again and he failed to be impressed by whatever it was that had lulled him into a false sense of security by lifting the cold and letting him drop his defences against it. They were a nasty little bastard whatever it was. But it didn’t feel wrong now, it felt more familiar, he knew whatever this was, and that scared him more so.

He swung the torch forward and then back, immediately regretting it as he nearly singed his eyebrows off. In the midst of his mess of a life, he saw something. It was black, it was small and it was moving.

The sound that originated from it was shrill and ear piercing, Stiles slammed his hands to his ears, torch dropping to the floor, and his vision swam. His balance faltered and he hit the wall, injured arm flared up with pain once more, he’d forgotten about it for a minute.

He fell to his knees as the shrill sound began to make shapes in his head. His eyes closed as he fought to hold onto his sanity.

He fought to open his eyes, to find what was causing him such immense pain, the torch had rolled towards the black shape and he feared his mind was deceiving him. It was a cat, a normal sized black cat, with its jaws spread wide and an ungodly sound spewing from within.

His eyes locked onto the cats, he felt almost drawn in, to some extent, those unnatural yellow eyes were hazy in his own vision but stood out to him more than the rest.

The shrill sound mutated and he fell onto his ass, his hands dropping from his ears as the sounds rang through his head rather than through the tunnel.

_‘Veneficus.’_

Stiles blinked though his eyes remained on the cat.

Its eyes remained unblinking, staring deep into his soul, watching him, reading him.

_‘Warlock.’_

With one word Stiles understood, he finally heard the hissing to the cat’s words. It was speaking in his mind, it was addressing him.

“What are you?”

The cat moved for the first time, it rose to all four paws and stalked towards him. It sat down close to his legs then blinked.

_‘Fas.’_

“Fas? Is that your name?”

_‘Yes, Warlock.’_

“My name’s Stiles.”

The cat didn’t respond, it only began to lick itself, yellow eyes turned to a different objective than staring into Stiles’ soul.

Stiles huffed and moved to stand up.

“I’m looking to find the rip between our world and another, Fas, do you know where it is?”

Fas leapt at him, scaled his back until it came to settle around his neck on both shoulders, Fas’ head resting on its paws next to Stiles’ left ear.

_‘Back to your friends, Warlock.’_

Stiles nodded and took that as his cue to move, his limbs were still sore from where they had near fatally fallen to the frost and then were immediately dragged back into the sweltering heat. The cat around his neck definitely wasn’t making him feel any cooler, Fas was like a very furry, very warm scarf that created its own body heat that just added to Stiles’ though it was not in a good way.

“Fas, did you cause all of that with the temperature?”

_‘Only Warlocks sense my magic, your wolf friend would not have sensed me. I was looking for you.’_

“Why?”

_‘I sensed you. I came to help.’_

Fas seemed to be vague at best, though it was a cat so Stiles didn’t really have any reference to a situation like this before because he had never heard anyone having a conversation with a cat in their mind before. It was all new, there was no basic understanding of the situation. All Stiles knew was he was so freaked out he was willing to tolerate the situation and actually entertain a conversation with this cat. It was weird but he did feel a certain connection with Fas, he couldn’t explain it he just did.

The tunnel was longer than Stiles remembered it but he soon could see the light that lit where he had started his journey, already coming towards it he could hear the sounds of Arturo and Araya having what sounded like an intense conversation in Spanish at the foot of his tunnel.

He tripped out and their conversation ceased, eyes looking him over, but they remained back, whatever they saw on him they disliked.

“Manticore, you have a friend.”

Stiles remembered then, Fas, to some extent he thought maybe he had hallucinated the cat, maybe he had imagined it to make sense of the wrongness. Clearly, he was wrong, the yellow-eyed cat remained seated around his neck, body heat still present.

“Yes, I found it in my tunnel, figured it would like a way out. I found nothing but the cat in my tunnel, what about you?”

Arturo looked between Araya and Stiles, his gaze was pointed and for the first time, Stiles noticed that Severo was no longer with them.

“Where’s Severo?”

“I sent him out, it is my tunnel, there are unspeakable things down there. Our favour is void we will blow the temple.”

Stiles frowned and looked down the tunnel, he could feel a small tug in his gut but it wasn’t anything major, it was nothing that signalled anything to him that there was something ‘unspeakable’ down there waiting for him.

Fas swished his tail around, it brushed Stiles’ head while he had it turned. Arturo was looking deathly pale and ready to leave with Araya and retreat to where Severo had gone outside.

“I’ll deal with it, I cannot leave somewhere feeling so wrong, not in this way. Arturo if you go with Severo and Araya back to the compound and leave my car I will meet you back there when I’m done.”

Arturo moved to dismiss that idea but Stiles shook his head, something had happened to his friend and Stiles didn’t need him to be put through any more of that. He was the one who was supposed to be fixing the problem, he didn’t need anyone else there but him to do that, well him and maybe Fas.

Arturo looked substantially relieved at knowing that he wouldn’t have to go back and see what he had seen before. Stiles was gladdened to know he didn’t have to put him through it again either.

The alpha shot one last look Stiles’ way before he began to follow Araya out of the temple and away from whatever had shaken the both of them up so much. His heart stuttered as he tried not to think about it, the two of them were definitely some of the toughest people he’d ever come into contact with and it worried him to think he’d have to deal with all this himself.

It was just him and this cat about to face off against ‘unspeakable things’ and he honestly was quite sure the reason he had no feelings about it yet might have had something to do with being in some form of shock that he was suddenly alone in this, him and his considerably new power and that worried him more than anything.

Fas twitched where the cat lay on his shoulders and Stiles snapped back to attention. It was now just them in the temple and whatever was about to lie ahead of them.

“Is this the rift, Fas, down there? Did it do that to them?”

_‘Demons, Warlock, it’s a portal to another realm. They take the form of our greatest fears.’_

Stiles paled, that was not what he had anticipated. He had never thought about demons as something to have to worry about, but he was learning more and more the more time he spent away from the sheltered neck of the Californian woods. He trembled in the wake of what was to come, he was not nearly as prepared as he should have been to even try to stop something like this. He had really trapped himself by telling them he’d get it done, he now had to, he hadn’t said he’d try he said he would. Brilliant, just brilliant Stiles. Good work.

He took a deep breath, clenched his hands into fists by his sides and puffed out his chest.

He was ready now.


	11. Chapter 11

Fas slipped off of his shoulders and stalked down the tunnel towards the area Stiles was really beginning to get a bad vibe from. He couldn’t even actively explain why he trusted the cat in the first place, it seemed to be leading him towards his doom anyway, maybe it had been a bad plan.

He clearly needed to place his trust in people and he did so without thinking. He hadn’t misjudged anyone as of yet so maybe it wasn’t too bad, even then there was always a first time for everything and Fas could be his first not like it could be much worse he was heading somewhere filled with demons.

Fas turned and looked at him, yellow eyes piercing his own whiskey brown.

A deep shiver rolled through him and he only wished he knew what his next steps were about to be, he couldn’t even comprehend that there was a rip between two worlds here, that demons were slipping through into their world and now he had to close it. Like how do you do that? What are the rules for doing something like this?

_‘Breathe, Warlock. You hold more power than you know.’_

Stiles dragged in a deep breath and looked down at Fas, this was maybe one of the reasons he trusted the cat, it just seemed to know what he needed to hear. It could be manipulating him of course but he didn’t want to even think about that either. He wanted to believe that he could trust Fas, he didn’t want to start thinking the worst of everyone but he would if he had to, he could be that person. He was wary of everyone, but overall he would trust them for as long as they gave him a reason to, that was the person he wanted to be. If he had to change that to survive, he would.

“What am I about to face, Fas?”

_‘Your deepest fears, Warlock, you will have to fight it. It will not be easy. I will help.’_

Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how the cat would be of use to him but with the way they had met he knew there was little he could do to question it. The cat was something else, it wasn’t a cat that was for sure and if it was something about it was seriously fucked up. He’d never really had a cat or had a friend that had a cat but he was certain that normal cats didn’t speak to you through mind boggling forms of telepathy, nor could they probably identify him as ‘Warlock’ every time they spoke.

He trusted Fas, this much was evident now but he would always wonder, that was a given in his mind. He would never stop being curious about everything and no one had told him to stop as of yet.

‘Place your hand on my neck, Warlock, I would like to give you something.’

Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to refuse, he knelt down on the dirty floor and placed his hand on the back of the black cat’s neck. Electric shocks rolled through his body leaving him tingling, he locked eye contact with Fas and if he was confused before he was about to be more so with what came next.

The cat’s unnatural yellow eyes morphed, the black of the pupils slimmed until they became almost non-existent, the yellow glowed to an almost neon consistency. Then Stiles’ hand burned, it was a searing pain that snapped his eyes from Fas’ towards where black was sliding from Fas’ fur up onto Stiles’ skin.

“What the hell, Fas?”

_‘Relax, Warlock.’_

Stiles could not find it in himself to relax, the black that was sliding off of Fas was curling up Stiles’ arm, everywhere the black moved to burnt like someone was branding him with a white-hot poker. He screamed through clenched teeth, what was Fas thinking? There was assumedly a large number of demons ahead of them in terrain that Stiles was not familiar with and now he was in unfathomable pain and likely leading them right at them in a tunnel that was only just tall enough for Stiles to stand fully upright within. This was yet another recipe for disaster, he really was just willing them to kill him at this point.

His focus on the pain that made him dizzy and at risk of toppling over didn’t distract him from the way his hand was slipping through Fas’ corporeal form, the fur slipped through his fingers like he was pushing his hand through a black cloud, he could hardly even feel the weight of his body against his hand. He was right the cat wasn’t a cat.

The only thing that remained tangible was the pain and the eyes floating almost eerily before his very eyes.

The pain tapered off after a minute, all that was left was a dull ache over the point where the pain had last originated from, the top of his right arm, a space that was just covered by the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He lifted his hand from within Fas’ smokey body and lifted it to his sleeve, his hand shook as he reached for it, he didn’t know what he was about to see.

Fas watched him, yellow eyes unblinking. Lifting his sleeve he blinked as he looked upon the swirls of dark black against his pale skin. If he had looked upon the symbol a couple of months ago he would have been upset to have been given a tattoo without permission but he wouldn’t have understood it, now though he understood the old language something he seemingly shared with Fas. The symbol was elegant and beautifully drawn despite how it came to be there, he could even feel the magic thrumming through it, joining with his own energy and becoming one.

It was a rune, one that meant protection with the underlying symbolism that indicated an anti-possession meaning also. Something he’d wished he had maybe a few months ago to have stopped that nasty Nogitsune business.

He was thankful to Fas for this yet also increasingly fearful of what he had let this creature do to him. The cat - but not cat - was still moving elegantly through the air in his black misty state, tendrils of its being moved of their own volition, making it appear almost like food colouring water. The only way Stiles knew that he wasn’t imagining the cat in this new state was the constant of those yellow eyes remaining in the same position as they had in cat form.

Fas was something else that was for sure, but he had still protected Stiles, it hadn’t had to but it had, it had calmed Stiles in the wake of what was about to happen and Fas showed him what it was, it had trusted him and it was only fair of Stiles to trust it back.

“Thank you, Fas.”

_‘You’re welcome, Warlock. We should be going.’_

Stiles wiped his hands off on his pants and stood up, his sleeve was rolled back down to hide the new mark if Fas was going to protect him he was going to try his best to protect Fas, and if that meant not yet knowing what Fas was even as much as he was curious then so be it.

“That we should.”


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles rubbed his hands together as they made their way down the tunnel, it was slowly becoming darker and darker but Stiles felt almost at home in the environment he had just been pushed into.

The fur on Fas’ back was standing on edge and the fangs were suddenly a constant in its appearance, Stiles hadn’t even thought about the cat as anything more than a companion, he hadn’t even picked up on its ‘I will help’ comment that suggested it was more than willing to put itself in harms way to complete this promise.

Worry prickled at his skin with every step he took in the direction of the perceived rift between two worlds. The chill he felt as they stepped across a boundary line was enough for him to know they were no longer alone.

Fas’ mouth was curled down in a permanent snarl, fangs sharp and looking remarkably scary for a little black cat. Fas hunched down on all four paws, prepared for a classic move of pounce and attack. The cat clearly had a better understanding of what was happening before it would even click to Stiles.

Darkness seeped around the edges of the room, swirling and floating, shapes ever-changing. Shades of black and grey interlaced together swirled as different masses and moved almost with evil intentions.

There was a danger about them, the intentions in the movement, the way they slowly crept towards Stiles and Fas. The safety Stiles had felt in his time with the Morales Pack and even with the Calavera’s felt foreign here, no one here knew him. He had no backup, he had no weapon, he had temperamental magic and a cat.

He had stepped away from Beacon Hills because they thought he was weak, he was here in a temple in Mexico because Araya and Arturo thought he could do it. He’d been the receiver of mixed messages and he was suddenly realising in his quest to prove he wasn’t at all weak he may have stepped into something remarkably bigger than himself. But making mistakes was a cornerstone in what made life something worth living because you could make up for the mistakes you could continue your life better knowing you would never make those mistakes again. He’d made so many mistakes, some he didn’t regret and some he didn’t yet regret he had time yet if he got out of this safe and he hoped so he had time to make up for them, to learn from them.

He rolled his knuckles and loosened up his hands, he wouldn’t be robbed from this chance to solve this problem just because his hands were too stiff from their voyage through the intense cold and then sudden thawing that Fas had put him through.

It was when watching the swirling darkness that Stiles finally noticed the eyes, the orbs of unnatural colours moving as one within the coloured masses that almost at once reminded him of Fas.

Fas, the creature who was once a cat by his side was floating in and out of visibility, the black of its fur becoming smoke-like vapour, those neon yellow eyes ever-present among the swirling mass of its being. Stiles was the man among beasts.

There was a shrieking sound but Stiles couldn’t let himself show weakness by falling to his knees in pain from the onslaught of foreign information upon his already very acute senses. He persevered through it, his broken eye glowing faintly gold as his energy pulsed within himself.

The shrieking with his perseverance soon became an intelligible mass of words that seemed to originate from a pair of crimson red eyes that were edging across the ceiling towards them. Fas’ eyes were almost locked upon that, though they flicked from crimson to the other half a dozen still swirling as one mass at the back of the room.

With the movement of the crimson eyes and the black mass of smoke and dark thoughts, Stiles finally locked on what looked like a crack in the back wall. Black smoke was dripping through the three metres long crack in the foundations, there was an arctic blue tint to the light leaking around it leaving an eery glow to permeate the area of the back wall.

**‘Fastian, what have you done?’**

Fas snarled at the mass looming above them, the cat was no longer a cat, its body becoming completely gas as it swirled before Stiles though remaining always in front of him, protecting him.

_‘Baalmo, it is not our time.’_

Baalmo’s crimson eyes glowed brighter as it placed its entire focus upon Fas, ignoring the fact that Stiles was clearly its intended target.

**‘The Warlock has the ability to kill us, the jaguar gave us freedom, what have you done?’**

_‘The Warlock is but a boy, if we do not side with him there will be no world, Baalmo you know of this as much as me.’_

Stiles flinched as he heard what Fas had said about him, the cat had always been a cat, but it was here a demon before his very eyes, allowing him knowledge of a future predicted and known by entities from other worlds. He could not even comprehend that they knew who he was, he was just a kid from Beacon Hills who got possessed and suddenly received magic powers. They must be thinking of someone else.

 **‘The boy doesn’t believe,** Fastian **, we had our chance at freedom. Why?’**

Fas looked back to where Stiles was stood. Yellowed eyes unblinking, pain seared in Stiles’ brain and his eyesight went foggy.

_‘Close it. Warlock.’_

It wasn’t shrieked like the conversation between Fastian and Baalmo had been, it was more within his mind, it had been directed purely to him and just him. Fas wanted him to close the rift, the rift that had allowed Baalmo and his friends to leak through and also likely Fas too. Fas who had protected him and Fas who had placed the fate of the world in his hands. He could not be more worried than he was.

Stiles rolled his fingers and stepped forward. There was a rush of wind around him as swoops of black smoke flew at him attempting to slow his movements. They knew his intentions and they didn’t like it.

Fas snarled the smoke of his being whipping forwards, formations of claws tore into being and slashed at Baalmo, those crimson eyes hardening, a shriek parting from its being as it too dove into the fight that Fas had begun.

Stiles tightened his fists and focused on his breathing, envisioning a sword his energy fluttered from his palms and became almost a tangible representation of what he had thought to life. He held the weighty object in his palm before he swung it at the first mass of swirling black, the demon hissed and flinched away, black mist dripped from the blade of his energy sword. Stiles grinned, yeah he might be able to do this.

He spun the sword in his hand before he swung it again, he imagined himself playing baseball, not that he was any good, but it was a better representation than most and it allowed for him to take all of his pent up anger out on the creatures swarming around his head.

He narrowed his eyes against them, gladdened for the mask still pressed against his face, he didn’t know if they could perceive emotions but he definitely didn’t want anything he was bound to be facing off to know just how scared he had felt before all of his badass-ness had come out to play.

He slid his sword between the Lilac eyes of a certain creature and he watched as it burst into ash before his very eyes. He let out a bark of ecstatic laughter, he’d killed one, and yet more still were leaking through the rift, he needed to close that as much as he needed to slash the rest of the creatures to bits. Good an unsolvable situation.

Stiles took a chance to look back at Fas only to see the mix of black snapping at one another behind his head, every so often there was an animal slashing at one another before they were back to the smokey masses they so seemed to prefer.

He felt his hair move just as he felt the pressure that had him slamming to the floor, the neon green-eyed creature pulsed back a sound of pain slipping out into the air around them. The centre of his chest ached, and he noted the inhuman gold glow floating around him. It had tried to possess him, Fas’ anti-possession rune had worked. He let out a relieved breath, energy sword gone from being as he’d lost all of his concentration that was tethering it to their world.

The creatures surrounding him faltered, they couldn’t stop him, they couldn’t kill him, they could only postpone him until he got to their rift.

Something flitted through his hair and shoved him, his shoulder bounced against the floor painfully, the gold of him couldn’t stop them hitting him no matter how much they maybe wanted to hurt him.

He let his instincts take control as he pressed his hand outwards, silencing the fights around him as a burst of gold sent the neon green-eyed creature bursting into non-existence. All that was left were the few wisps of black that floated to the floor like feathers in a light breeze.

He blinked at the destruction, no one was attacking him, he had time to close the rift. He would trust his instincts and maybe it would work. No one was telling him any different, no one could tell him any different, he knew no one that could teach him any of this, no one but Fas and Fas was otherwise occupied at that moment.

He pushed himself up into more of a sitting position, he pushed both hands towards the rip in the foundations, he could feel the tingle through his fingertips as he focused solely on sealing it. His shoulder ached as he strained for it.

The building shook and his body ached, his eyes glowed and the arctic blue light dimmed. Gold wisps fought against black, singeing anything that tried to touch him, he could do this, he could do this.

Arctic blue hissed and retreated, gold overtook it, glowing bold in a crack that reminded him of the deepest scar on his face. Eyes of orange, of red, of blue, sought refuge in the remaining arctic blue glow, only a few made it.

Gold rebounded from the crack, filling the air with electricity and burning his soul, Stiles slid back across the floor, head smashing into the wall.

Fastian and Baalmo were shot apart, familiar black cat hitting the wall to the right of Stiles as a crimson-eyed black snake hit the floor on the other side of the room.

The gold glow seared out of the small room, through tunnels and out of the temple, it travelled through Chihuahua, shaking nearby towns, affecting nearby supernaturals. It flew through Mexico leaving a tingle in the back of the spine and bringing states of America to unknown conclusions. Supernaturals felt the effects, aches in their minds, in their hearts, in their souls. They didn’t know what it was, only power. It was unknown whether bad or good, only power. One of them had done something big, something unheard of, something only prophesized and things were only going to get weirder.


	13. Chapter 13

Arturo shivered cupping his hand to the base of his neck, all of his hairs were stood on end and he could not explain it. Carlos too held his hand to the nape of his neck as did Jorge, all the wolves in the room looked set off by this feeling that danced its way through their spine. It left his eyes glowing red for seconds before the tingling dispersed.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

There was the sound of feet before the door was thrown open and little Ezio held the back of his neck a confused expression on his face.

“Arturo, there was the spreading of a golden glow and then my neck hurt, what’s happening?”

Arturo frowned and squatted down beside the boy, “What do you mean, Z?”

“I was looking out the window, the ground trembled and then gold glowed through the air and then I felt my neck hurt when the gold touched me. What is it?”  
“I don’t know, Z, could you tell me where it came from?”

The little boy nodded, placed his hand in Arturo’s before he began to drag him towards the window he’d been staring out of when it happened. He pointed at the direction and Arturo felt his blood run cold.

He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and thanked him, “I’ve got to go somewhere, Z, think you can hold down the fort for me?”

Ezio nodded assured to the fact he could do exactly what Arturo needed him to do. Arturo smiled before he fled the house and headed for his car, he needed to speak to the Calavera’s.

* * *

 

There was an unknown SUV parked in front of the compound but Arturo paid it no mind, he needed to speak to them quickly, something had happened at the temple and they had left a seventeen-year-old boy alone there because they had been too scared to figure it out with him.

The tingle he felt at the back of his neck lingered here, he could feel the electricity in his bones, he didn’t even want to guess what had happened to Stiles there, the kid was magic that much was known but to what extent they’d only ever guessed. But he wished he now knew, he didn’t want to think he’d sent a kid to his death but this is what that felt like, extreme guilt and worry and an intense need to know if the Calavera’s had heard anything from the kid. Something felt extremely wrong in his gut, he just needed to know.

The guard at the door nodded to him and allowed him to rush up the steps and around the compound until he came across Araya’s office door. He threw it open without thinking to address the fact that the unknown SUV’s owner could very well be inside, this was for a completely selfless reason and they both seemed to have a strong connection to the boy.

Araya was, in fact, talking to a man, with a very rugged beard and hardened eyes. Arturo begged forgiveness in his eyes as he completely bypassed him to talk to Araya.

“Something happened at the temple.”

Her gaze dropped and her hands slicked up with sweat. She had thought maybe the kid had just never come back after his favour had been complete, but deep down something had always felt wrong.

“What do you mean?”

“We all felt it, there was a gold rush from that area, he glows gold doesn’t he? Every supernatural in my pack felt it in the base of our necks, its fiercer here I can feel it in my bones. He isn’t back?”

She shook her head, eyes darting to Severo and then to the man stood confused before them.

She sighed a breath before deciding to address the situation, “Arturo alpha of the Morales Pack, this is Chris Argent, his sister held the Hale wolf in the temple.”

Arturo felt his insides burn as he turned his attention to the man that was once unknown, “your sister did that to the temple?”

His growl had the man reaching for his gun only to have Severo stop him.

“We are concerned, Mr Argent, for someone we sent in to solve the problem. He has been alone there nearing an hour and there has just been a wave of gold originating from the temple. Arturo is just worried as we all are.”

“And how are you so sure my sister had anything to do with this?”

“We don’t.” Araya started then continued, “Manticore felt an increased amount of wrongness there since she left, we are only guessing.”

“Manticore?”

She laughed, it was brash and saddened, “it is not his name, something I called him. I do not know his name nor do I want to. He preferred it over ‘el brujo’.”

Chris’ eyebrows lifted, “you know a magic user?”

“We do, he’d also at this temple right now.”

“I’m going to go get him,” Arturo stated firmly, Severo nodding solemnly at his words. They all felt worried for the boy who had offered himself up to save them so that they wouldn’t have to see what scared them ever again and they might have gotten him killed. That thought didn’t bode well with any of them.

Chris looked around at them all before he spoke, “mind if I come, I’d quite like to see what my sister may have done to this temple.”

Araya nodded and checked the chamber of her gun for bullets, “we will need all the help we can get.”

* * *

 

Chris’ eyes widened as they pulled up behind a very familiar car, it was that and the person limping out of the entrance to the tunnel that had him breathing one word from his lips.

“Stiles.”

The person was littered with cuts and bruises, a hand pressed to their side that was littered with an inky black that was so unlike who he was nearly three months before. Something black was clasped between the fingers of his free hand and just dangled where it was held at his side. His hair was lightened by what looked like ash and even on his face, there was a relieved grin at the recognisable car that he knew. 

He was everything Chris remembered him as, and yet he was so different, the way he held himself was remarkably different from when he'd seen him last. It reminded him of his Nogitsune days but the lightness of his smile was so Stiles that meant it was him. There was no mistaking it, yet why was he here. 

As he got closer there was one remarkable difference to him that had Chris’ heart beating faster and harder, so hard he could feel it in his throat. Despite the look of relieved happiness painted across his face there were three deep lines cut into one side, breaking apart an eye that used to wholly portray his intelligence. This was not Beacon Hills Stiles, this was someone a lot more raw, someone beaten down, someone attacked and something deep inside of Chris told him he didn’t want to know by who. 


	14. Chapter 14

*45 minutes earlier*

 

Stiles came to at long last, eyesight blurry and head pounding, he pushed the mask up off of his face and let it rest heavily atop of his hair. His entire body ached as he moved and he even just considered sitting there until it stopped hurting.

And where even was he? Why did he hurt so badly? What happened?

He rubbed his hands through his eyes and froze.

He was in that temple in Mexico, the one Derek used to be in, the one he’d met Fas and the exact same one he’d convinced two badass adults that he could get on with this himself. A mistake once more, he couldn’t even count them anymore it was like at least two a day, he was a mess.

He wondered what they thought of him now, he could have been passed out for days and they seemingly hadn’t come looking for him, then again he could have been passed out mere minutes and his worries would be for nothing. That or they could think he was dead, morbid great.

Looking past his hands as his eyesight came back into focus he found himself on his hands and knees beside a crumpled black being to the right of him, his head spinning with the speed at which he moved.

“Fas, come on Fas.”

Those yellowed eyes blinked open drearily, the hit against the wall clearly jarring the demon, at least this too meant Baalmo was also incapacitated at this time. That sure was a relief.

 _‘Warlock, you did it_.’

Stiles looked across at where the crack lay almost dormant, it was still and there was no arctic blue glow seeping through any more. His heartbeat slowed, they’d done it.

There was movement in his peripheral vision and Stiles drew into a protective position over Fas, the cat was in no place to protect itself in this instance.

A snake slithered towards them, red tongue flicking from black mouth, crimson eyes pointed heavily on them. Baalmo.

**‘Calm it, Warlock, you closed the rift.’**

His words hissed to life in Stiles’ mind almost as if he was having a conversation in Parseltongue but he wasn’t Harry Potter.

Stiles blinked, yeah he’d done that and this snake had tried to stop him doing it, he thought maybe it would continue trying to stop them but it wasn’t attacking.

Fas pulled itself back onto all four paws and shook out its fur, its movements were wobbly and uncoordinated but Stiles got the gist of it and moved to the side. It was probably about to become the weirdest conversation he had ever taken part in, and he’d been the instigator of a few.

_‘He is young, but he is foretold, we pledge to him or we pledge to hell.’_

Baalmo hissed, tongue showing his dissatisfaction to what Fas said.

**‘It is not our time, we cannot play favourites, Fastian.’**

_‘Not favourites, survival.’_

Baalmo looked to be debating it, eyes flicking from Fas’ steeled yellow to Stiles’ confused whiskey brown.

**‘We might not take.’**

_‘We will.’_

Baalmo pulled back, looking over the situation in front of it.

**‘You’ve already pledged.’**

_‘I did.’_

**‘The tattoo, show me, boy!’**

Stiles hadn’t followed any of the conversations before that, he frowned a tingling sensation in his arm reminded him of the inky black mark that had snaked from Fas up to his arm. He frowned but pulled at his sleeve anyway.

Baalmo hissed at the mark and it moved. The inky black shape moved before their very eyes, twisting and moulding, a dozen different shapes before it settled back into the runes that Stiles most understood.

_‘He is of magic, we will take.’_

Baalmo hissed once again but backed off, eyes flashing lighter but nothing else changed.

Fas turned to Stiles, yellow eyes widened and pleading, Stiles hadn’t followed much of the conversation but he gathered that a muchness of it was about him. They were discussing him, his magic and everything in between that made sense to them as demons but not to Stiles as a human.

_‘We are wishing to protect you, as a mage, as what you will become, Warlock. Do you trust me?’_

Stiles found himself nodding despite everything, the cat protected him, he couldn’t say the same for the snake but if Fas vouched then he figured he could come to terms with it.

Baalmo nodded and dove for him, there was no warning and even Fas stood back to just watch as he came for him. Before his very eyes, Baalmo vanished and then the pain started. He rolled in agony across the floor, hands at his sides trying to bat away whatever the crimson eyed demon had done to him. He’d come to hurt him to break him, to do something that Stiles couldn’t even comprehend and he’d trusted Fas, he’d trusted him and now all he had was pain.

The pain seared through his side, danced along his ribs and made his vision swam. It lit up across his body like a Christmas tree, he couldn’t quite find where the pain wanted to settle. His fingernails drew sharp lines across his t-shirt, frayed the material and dragged across skin. He couldn’t find it within himself to focus on anything else, there was only pain.

Fas never moved, not once.

His eyesight slowly focused and the pain slowly gave in, his fingernails were covered in blood where he had broken the skin in his desperate efforts to find the source of his agony.

Fas stalked forwards as he noted the distinct change in his breathing patterns, they were less laboured, he was in less pain, his heartbeat was slower. It had taken.

Fas nuzzled against his arm, yellowed eyes seeking the skin that was still covered by his newly ratty t-shirt. Stiles glared at the cat but he too wanted to know what had happened. He rolled the bottom of the shirt up and found his mouth drying as he stared at the newly inky black spot across his ribs.

He trailed his fingers over the elegant style inked snake that newly decorated his ribs, those crimson eyes blinked back at him and he flinched, Baalmo moved across his skin fluidly before coming back to rest in the position it had most liked.

He blinked then looked down at Fas, “what is this?”

_‘Breathe, Warlock, it is a form of magic we demons prefer, it allows for you to use our power while we can protect you, we can both leave and be summoned whenever we are needed but you will never be defenceless even if someone can contain your magic.’_

“So you’ll have to?”

_‘My essence is already on your skin, it will not be as painful but it may still hurt, we will appear as tattoo’s only you will know who we are.’_

Stiles nodded, he swallowed and wet his lips. So much had happened in such a short period and now two demons were using his body as a vehicle while pledging their allegiance and help to him, someone Baalmo had worried would kill them and yet he had, he’d hurt some of them and he might have hurt more if he hadn’t have stopped.

He worried for this future they seemed assured was held by him, he wasn’t that powerful, he was newly supernatural, he needed time and support before he was about to be thrust upon something so dark and devastating. But he supposed he could take all the help he could get, no matter who it came from.

He nodded again, opening up his hands to Fas, the cat moved slowly not as decisive as Baalmo seemed to be by all of this. It pressed its paw against the skin inside of his left wrist. It burned for a few moments but he was able to weather it that time, the pain on his shoulder from before flared back up but none of it was as bad as when Baalmo took its place upon his ribs.

The fur of Fas’ back became wisps of smoke as he sunk his own brand of inky black into the skin of Stiles. It warped and formed its own ink blot before choosing the shape it so desired. It was a paw print, a slightly larger than average paw print branded into the skin of his wrist.

In a matter of four days, he’d met a whole pack of werewolves, a group of hunters, two demons and now had three tattoos he sure was fast going. By this rate, he’ll be back in Beacon Hills in a blink of an eye.

In a matter of two minutes, he was alone. Not mentally, mentally he knew he had been boarded by two demons that currently decorated his skin, physically though he suddenly felt very cold and very alone.

Standing up he rubbed his hands off on the fabric of his jeans, there was nothing left for him to do in this temple now, so he should go back to the Calavera’s compound and let them know everything was fine.

He had no purpose now, he’d been driven by this purpose for so long he hadn’t stopped to think what he would do next, he was lost again. Lost and alone.

He pulled the mask off of the top of his head and held it in his hands, as much as he was the Manticore here, he was still Stiles and he wondered just how long he could keep that charade up. He wanted to of course, but he wanted to make his name mean something more than weak human among supernaturals, he had to be more than that, he was more than that. Weak Stiles would never have been able to close a demonic rift, weak Stiles could not have sat through the agony that was taking on demonic passengers. But he was still weak Stiles, he still worried over every little thing, he still felt frightened for his friends, that would never change. He just had to make sure that weak Stiles was not the only thing he was identified as.

Steeling himself he began to traverse out of the tunnels, he’d be leaving Mexico soon that much was known to him, he’d keep in touch that was for certain but he couldn’t have gotten out of one place to get stuck in another, he wanted to be a free spirit, he wanted to help. He even wanted to learn, never before had he thought that there were magic users nor that they could get demonic tattoos, clearly, he just was not well enough informed and he wanted to be. That would be his new purpose, to learn.

He would leave this little nook in Mexico and learn, he would meet new people, help new people, do all he might to make a new name for himself, perhaps Manticore, perhaps Stiles, the word was his oyster and he was willing to take it.

By the time he limped out of the temple, a smile was glued to his face and the bare bones of a new plan were forming in his mind. He would make himself, he would grow.

He felt his anxieties lift as he saw the familiar truck of the Calavera’s however long he’d spent down there they’d come to look for him. That was relieving to a degree, and now he even had good news to tell them.

He purposefully limped past them to his car where he set his mask down in the passenger seat and turned to look at them good and proper.

Arturo was at him in an instant, eyes narrowed and moving purposefully across his body to check if he was okay.

“I’m okay, everything’s fine.”

Araya stepped forwards, “you found it?”

“Found it. Fixed it. Passed out for a minute, but came out here when I’d sorted myself.”

“What was it?”

“Demons.”

Araya stepped back to fully grasp the situation, it was then that Stiles noticed him. Chris was looking him over with a harsh glare and Stiles found an awkward smile lifting to his lips.

He lifted a hand in lieu of a greeting, “hey.”


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles had allowed for Arturo to climb into the passenger seat of his jeep so they could drive back to the Calavera’s compound. Chris Argent had barely done anything but stare at him after his first awkward greeting, he had honestly never thought he would bump into anyone down here it was just too out there. He’d just assumed Chris would stay in France with Isaac, stay away from everything that had caused his daughters death, that included him sadly.

Chris had climbed hack into the Calavera’s truck, eyes promising words with the seventeen-year-old kid he used to only associate with Beacon Hills.

The ride back to the compound had Stiles jittery with anticipation, he didn’t know what Chris was going to say to him, he hadn’t even worried that all this would be something he would have to deal with at any point, it was too out there. Chris Argent should still have been in France, he shouldn’t have been in Mexico where Stiles was finding himself and fighting demons.

He threw his bag jokingly out of the window at Arturo as his friend climbed out of the car before him, Araya and Severo had already entered the compound and Chris was hovering in the open doorway a closed off expression on his face. Yeah, Stiles was not ready for the talking to he was about to be on the receiving end of.

Arturo followed him up the steps of the compound, Stiles had thought he would just go back to his pack now that he knew Stiles was safe, but it was vaguely realised that they wanted to know what had happened in the temple, why he’d said it was demons that were in there, why he hadn’t come out worse off than he was. There were a lot of questions that they would be wanting him to answer that much was assured to him. Maybe having Arturo there, who would likely be the gentlest of all the interrogators, might make it just a little bit easier. He doubted it though.

They reconvened in Araya’s office and Stiles fell heavily into one of the seats there, anything was better than the amount of time he’d spent on the floor recently. Arturo settled his bag beside his chair leg on the floor then proceeded to move to the back of the room and stand there. The solitary alpha wanting to remain free of the situation that might have been about to occur.

Araya took the seat across from him, Severo standing stoic behind her and Chris stood off to one side with his arms crossed.

“What do you want to know?”

He ran a tired hand through the mop of hair on his head, he really did need a shower, he had the remaining life form of some demons resting in his hair. He shook his hand to rid it of those wisps of black ash before he settled in for the perceived onslaught of questions.

“Whatever it is, it is closed?”

Stiles nodded at Araya’s question and pulled himself into a more appropriate position in the chair, it was for sure more comfortable too.

“Yeah, knocked me out closing it, really threw two demons a new one too, they didn’t get back through the rift before I closed it. Felt this weird tingle spread through me but the shockwave of it all threw me into the back wall and knocked me out.”

“We all felt the results of it closing, Ezio even saw a big burst of gold from the temple,” Arturo stated, Stiles turned to him confused, Arturo rubbed the back of his neck where he’d felt the aftershocks of what happened.

“You’re kidding? I saw gold but I was sure that was just because I closed this like 3 metres long crack between dimensions and my magic just sort of wanted to show itself? I don’t know. That’s crazy though if you saw it all the way out here.”

Stiles slumped back in his chair, as he’d said he passed out he’d had no clue what the resulting effects of what he’d done would do and yet here they were twenty minutes drive away from the temple an area and beyond that had seen the aftershocks of his endeavours.

“The two demons, you said they didn’t get through, what happened?” Chris piped up for the first time and Stiles froze. He would have been okay explaining it to the others but he wasn’t certain he could get away from a lecture if he told his friends dad.

He grimaced to an extent before he pulled up his shirt to show the ornate snake tattoo on his ribs, “Baalmo, and Fastian,” he pointed to the paw print on his wrist after.

Araya leaned a bit more across the table to look over the inky black that now decorated his skin.

“What is it?”

Stiles shrugged he didn’t fully get what had happened and he kept calling him a vehicle and them his passengers but he was almost certain they would not appreciate his metaphor of it.

“Fas explained it like a pledge of allegiance, they kept talking of like an end of the world and that I was prophesized to save it like that isn’t crazy. Apparently, they can come out when they want to but they clearly don’t want to right now. Hurt like crazy for them to even mark me so I hope it doesn’t hurt as bad them coming out. So yeah, and they can’t possess me either because I have a rune for that, and it works because one already tried to possess me and I burnt him to hell.”

Stiles shook his head, he sounded crazy weird explaining all this to them but he supposed he couldn’t get away with it, and it also showed him just how much he didn’t know about all of this too and that didn’t help ease his worries. Yeah he shouldn’t be called Manticore he should be called Mistakes, for all the ones he’s made, he still hasn’t come to irreversibly regret one yet but there was definitely still time for that.

“You smell unchanged, so you are okay?”

Arturo was still rubbing the back of his neck as if it fully broke him to know that Stiles had caused that massive surge of power.

“I mean other than a possible concussion and some trauma I’ve been living with for some time, I’m fine.”

Arturo nodded, clearly happy with what he’d found from this regrouping at the Calavera’s compound to find out what had gone down in their absence.

Stiles opened his arms, he was welcoming any more questions but he seemingly was only getting openly worried looks cast towards him. Araya took it as an opportunity to move swiftly onto the next bit of business.

“Alpha Morales, we have some things to discuss with Mr Argent and Manticore if you could leave.”

Arturo nodded, understanding that there were some things an alpha werewolf in hunter territory was not privy to. He bid Stiles farewell with a clap on the shoulder and made his exit.

Araya clasped her hands and looked between them, she clearly knew that they knew one another, that was inevitable, surely she knew Chris Argent was a hunter working out of Beacon Hills the same place Stiles had lived in up until he was attacked by his former friend.

“You know one another, no?”

Stiles nodded, tensing up, yep he needed someone to come into his life and condescend him. That was all that would add to this experience of finding his own identity, having someone tell him he’d made a mistake, not that he didn’t already know.

“Christopher is here because his sister was the one who was holding Derek Hale captive in that temple.”

Stiles spun around to eye Chris, “Kate’s alive, fuck that’s shit. Wait so you’re here because you thought she might still be at the temple, right? Yeah she’s not, spent a good amount of time down there think I would have seen her.”

“What are you doing here, Stiles?”

If Araya reacted to his name being dropped Stiles didn’t see, but he did cringe, he’d managed to get this far without having to let her know, he was assured that she’d find out sooner or later but it kind of hurt to know someone from his old world had broken through something he was newly trying to build. What was the point if he couldn’t split his old world and this new world apart and keep the door locked between them, that sucked.

Stiles stared at Argent, the man was trying to keep his eyes focused on the left side of his face, the side that was so specifically the kid he’d left behind in Beacon Hills when he’d left for France, not the right side the so openly broken kid that had been hurt and attacked, so much so that he was taking refuge in Mexico.

He gestured to the right side of his face and shrugged. “Couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills, you can’t say anything, you left too.”

Chris sighed, Stiles was right of course he was, the both of them had run from what caused them trauma, only Chris’ trauma was inside and Stiles was so boldly outside.

“Who did it?”

“You don’t want to know.” Stiles wouldn’t be the person who ran from Beacon Hills without telling anyone only to ruin his attacker from the outside. He hadn’t even told his dad, he couldn’t be the one who did that. He wouldn’t disagree if they guessed but he did not want to make anyone feel things about someone just because of one action. If Scott was making up for it now, Stiles didn’t know, but he also didn’t care.

“Stiles, what happened?”

“I said some things I don’t regret but they were pointed and mean and I got hurt because of it. I came to Mexico because I knew Derek was here and I didn’t know if anyone was going to get him, the pack got to him before I did, so I just stayed here.”

“And you’re magic now?” Chris’ eyebrow and lip quirked up, it was clear he wanted to speak more on the front of who hurt him, and Stiles was sure he could firmly guess with the way he so outrightly decided to split himself off from the pack but he didn’t care.

“I am, apparently my mom was a witch before she died. But magic doesn’t come in until there is pain and I experienced my fair share of that with the Nogitsune.”

The jokey atmosphere dropped between the two of them as the conversation turned back to the broken experience that they had all gone through that previous school year. Trauma was enough to break a camaraderie, especially when that trauma included Allison Argent’s death.

“Does your dad know you’re out here, Stiles?”

“Yeah, I let him know when I stopped in Janos, and again when I stopped here. I’ve been sending him postcards, I don’t want to know what’s happening at home, phone calls just hurt. He was the only one who knew I was leaving Beacon Hills.”

Stiles was saddened to think of his dad, he’d known from the start that he wouldn’t be calling his dad as often as he should have been, he didn’t want to be guilted into coming back to Beacon Hills, as much as he wanted to believe that he had left everyone back there behind, he knew that he still cared, they were still family and he did not want them to die. He just wanted some time for himself before he had to come back and save their asses all over again.

“Scott texted me about Kate being in the temple, that’s when I knew to come here, I was already off of the plane when I got his next one that said she was just at the high school and that was four hours ago.”

Stiles and Araya both sat up a bit taller. Chris kept his eyes on Stiles but remembered that the Calavera’s were still in the room and they were the reason he was still here, them first and now Stiles.

“You’re going back to Beacon Hills.”

It was more statement than question and Chris could see the wheels turning in Stiles’ head, he knew something had happened to him back home there was no doubt about it. But he also knew there was no stopping him from helping when he was needed if it wasn’t for Scott and the others he had so eloquently ignored and just referenced to them as pack then it would be for his dad, and even then Chris wouldn’t force him.

“I’m going to find Kate, she’s dangerous and I can’t let her hurt anyone else.”

Stiles nodded, that was fair enough really, there was nothing else you could ask of siblings. Stiles wasn’t certain if he had a sibling he would be willing to hunt them down for doing something terrible, he just didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Seeing Chris so adamant to do it reminded him why he had always looked up to the hunter when they’d previously worked together over the years. He was yet another person he trusted and hadn’t been bitten in the ass by it yet.

He figured finding Kate was enough of a purpose for his next step in the journey, they’d be driving back from Mexico to Beacon Hills another day or so journey which would allow him enough time to work on a few new things he’d read in those books Araya had given him.

If it meant going home he could at least see his dad and it didn’t mean he had to go seeking out the pack again, he could stand on the outskirts and find Kate that way. If worst came to it he would leave, he would find Kate and then he would go. He wasn’t having a four day holiday and then go home, that wasn’t what he wanted for himself, he’d go back, see his dad and find Kate and then he’d take the next step to what would be the rest of his life.

That was it, decided, that was if Chris would have him of course.

“Can I come?”


	16. Chapter 16

They’d taken Stiles’ jeep, the SUV that Chris had been driving had been left in the Calavera’s hands to hopefully get it back to the rental office at the airport or one that would get it back where Chris had gotten it from.

Stiles had almost been certain that Chris would tell him no after he’d stared at the young Warlock for nearing what felt like aeons before he had nodded and said sure. The Calavera’s had handed Stiles a card with their number on it and made him promise to call if he was ever in any need, of course, they were going to take that statement in reversal for themselves also and he was assured that they would call him whenever they were in need of a magic user.

Stiles had grinned and taken it, of course, he was willing to add names to the hastily bought leather-bound notebook that he’d planned to contain every person he trusted names to that list. He wanted to be able to trust the people he cared for, trust that they would come to his aid, and trust that they would call him if they needed any help. That’s what he wanted to be known for, not his magic just his willingness to help. It was also one of the many reasons for why he was committed to going back and helping Beacon Hills like this, his instincts worried for it but he also deep down knew of the good he would be doing, he couldn’t be selfish about this, they’d hurt him but they didn’t deserve to die over it.

He’d made sure to let Chris know that he would be with him shortly as he’d made a swift move from the car when they stopped in Casas Grandes to the little house he remembered Adelia and Ezio having taken him to that first night here.

Adelia had greeted him at the door, a sad smile on her face as she gathered that this would be his parting time, she’d called for Ezio and the little boy had been like sonic the hurricane wrapping around his every limb and laughing as Stiles crashed to the floor.

He’d fought to assure them that he’d be back if they ever needed anything, that they’d be in his prayers as he would be in theirs and that he would never forget them. He’d passed the plastic mask back to Ezio and the little boy had nearly cried. It took time to explain that he too still had one, a metal replica and that if Ezio kept the plastic one it meant that they would be the only two with these masks that somewhere out there would be Stiles wearing the replica and every minute thinking of the little boy who’d gifted him the first version.

Ezio had hugged him tight after that, he too promised to think of Stiles while he wore his own mask, he wouldn’t fight in his because he knew that somewhere out there his friend was fighting for him so he didn’t have to.

Adelia gave Stiles their number again, happily writing it down in his leather bound book, number and name and little paragraph wishing him safe in all his endeavours. He’d hugged her for that, thanked her in the minimal Spanish he’d learnt while being there, then wished her safety in life. He’d miss them, the first of many he was sure.

Arturo, Jorge and Carlos were hovering by their truck when he’d left the little house, he’d smiled and fallen straight into hugs with all four werewolves. He’d spent little time with Jorge and Carlos but they meant as much to him as everyone here did, he’d miss them just as much only to wish he’d just accepted life in Mexico and had them make him a part of their pack. He wasn’t one for settling down, he much more liked the idea of life on the road rather than a life in one place. He loved them and he always would but he needed to be selfish for himself for once.

Arturo had signed his name and number into his book, followed by Jorge and Carlos, it wasn’t needed to have all three of their contact details but if they wanted to he’d give them that. He would never pass down an excuse to come back here no matter what it was for. If he could help he willingly would, he’d, of course, hoped there was a teleportation spell somewhere in his future but he would be more than happy to remain with his trusty jeep for life if that was what it took to commit to these promises.

Chris had been waiting more than patiently for Stiles to make his way back to the car, he’d been sat in the driver's seat obviously itching to drive not like Stiles had any issue with it. If the two were tag teaming driving it only meant they wouldn’t have to stop at the side of roads to sleep and that sounded good to Stiles.

“Made a lot of friends here I see.”

“They were good to me when they didn’t have to be, just wanted to maintain some way of contacting them or them contacting me.”

“No judgement, Stiles, that’s the best way to create a network. It is how it started with the hunters.”

“The Supernatural Network sounds like it would make a better film than the 2010 version; The Social Network.”

Chris cracked a smile but their time for talking was over. All Chris wanted to ask was about his scars but he knew Stiles didn’t want that told yet and he figured with Stiles talkative tendencies it would come out sooner or later and that was when he would know that Stiles trusted him enough to tell him even what it seemed he hadn’t told his dad.

 

* * *

 

 

They had been driving for nearing 7 hours now, they’d swapped twice and now Stiles was back in the passenger seat. He was supposed to be getting some well-deserved rest before they would need to switch back but his brain was working a mile a minute and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep in the next hour.

They had another five hours on the road, and slowly Stiles had come to think that he’d made a bad decision, he couldn’t abandon his jeep so he couldn’t just get out and move on alone. But he was also aware he was heading home, he’d only been gone just under a week and he was already going back. That didn’t say he was loving his independence as much as he actually was, he’d be gone almost as soon as they found Kate, he didn’t want to go back to school and he especially did not want to get roped into helping them with more of the problems they walked themselves into. That wasn’t his job, not anymore.

He rubbed his finger against the paw print on his wrist, “Fas.”

He flinched slightly as black blossomed from his wrist as if his skin was breathing out the cat that settled in his lap, yellowed eyes blinking up at him expectantly. The once inky black tattoo rested a dull grey as the embodiment of it sat in front of him waiting for the reason it had been summoned. 

Chris glanced concerned across at them but kept his thoughts to himself.

_‘Good evening, Warlock.’_

“Am I making the right decision, Fas?”

_‘Are your instincts telling you to get out of this car and walk away from this?’_

“No.”

_‘Then you are not making the wrong decision, Warlock. I have a good instinct about your travel companion and I sense he sets you at ease, true allies would never steer you wrong, remember that.’_

“Thanks, Fas.”

He stroked his fingers through the fur behind Fas’ ears, his ADHD drawing him to do something with his hands even if it was to pet a demon.

“You and Baalmo were talking about me saving the world, are you sure you weren’t wrong about me?”

Fas dug claws into Stiles’ leg and he yelped, glaring down at the cat and the response to his question.

_‘Absolutely not, we chose nothing, Warlock. I could sense you before you entered the temple, the magic inside of you is more powerful than I have experienced first hand since I was much younger, and that was a long time ago. Baalmo and I spent a lot of time manipulating and conniving from the background of situations, in a time when Witches and Warlocks were commonplace. Power slips through bloodlines but isn’t freely given you have to earn it. The pain that radiates from you was foretold, the power you've been given foretold, the future ahead of us foretold. Nothing is a mistake, you are not a mistake.’_

Stiles hunched down, fingers still carding through the fur on Fas’ back, his demon companion new more than Stiles had ever considered. He’d given no thought to the many lives the cat may have lived through, it was clearly a lot longer than Stiles or even Chris had been alive, it sounded like the cat had been lurking in the shadows for centuries.

“So there are more than just me?”

_‘Not as many as there should be, witch trials killed off a lot of bloodlines and many magical bloodlines took their magic to the supernatural, bonded one member to them for protection and let the rest of the magic fade away. There are more so in Europe and Africa than here but you are not one alone here.’_

“I guess they would be hard to find.”

Stiles was dejected, at first, he’d thought with magic would a whole new community appear for him to be immersed in, a new pack, a new family. Just a whole collection of people that would really understand him.

_‘I know of a few, some not human, but with us comes knowledge and Baalmo and I will always try to teach you where we can, demonic magic is not uncommon to humans just a little bit more dangerous, but you host us both so I can see it not being a problem.’_

“How did you know it would work?”

_‘You’re a virgin.’_

Stiles flinched and looked immediately from Fas to Chris until he remembered that Fas was speaking inside of his head and Chris couldn’t actually hear what was being said. Nevertheless, he had not guessed that his status as a virgin would be all that important to a cat, that and the fact that Fas knew, he didn’t really like to discuss it except for his worry to be the virgin sacrifice last year.

He wiped his hands off on his legs and looked down at the cat with wide eyes, the look in Fas’ eyes translated an almost laughter like quality to them. Great even the cat was laughing because he was a virgin, he couldn’t get any more embarrassed. Brilliant.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Stiles hissed at the cat, Chris smirked at him out of the corner of his eye before he focused back on the road.

_‘Virgin Warlocks have unparalleled power, well, unparalleled until those Warlocks find Love of which suddenly there is a whole new type of magic that can be performed.’_

Stiles’ eyes widened, he leaned down to the cat, this was not a conversation he should be having with a cat and his friend's dad in the car.

Stiles mouthed certain words down to the cat and this time Fas really did chuff in amusement.

_‘Yes, Sex magic. But it is only worth anything magical if it is with someone you share an intense true bond with, at the moment Virgin magic is your best aspect.’_

Stiles sulked, well at least something good was coming out of him being a virgin, but he was not under any circumstances going to be using that as an explanation for his magic, especially not to his dad.

“So I can use demon magic, as a - you know?”

_‘Yes. I can teach you magic, Virgin.’_

Stiles glowered at the cat, he did not need this from something that was going to be travelling with him for the foreseeable future.

He didn’t see the point in banishing Fas back to his wrist just because he was annoyed at something it said to him, and it didn't help that it wasn't untrue.  Instead, he left it be and he watched as the cat curled up comfortably in his lap, claws thankfully away. Stiles took the lull in conversation to give him time to focus on getting a couple more hours of sleep before he let Chris get his next bout of beauty sleep, and he would return to his favourite place - the driver's seat of his trusty jeep.

Anytime he could get asleep meant less time stewing over what would come next for them in Beacon Hills, and those thoughts were just the ones he was trying his hardest to escape for just a little bit longer at least. 

Chris watched as the two of them settled in the seat beside him, he'd been shocked to note the ease at which Stiles held himself whilst he maintained a conversation with a demonic cat who had at one point just been a tattoo on his wrist. He supposed this was just something he would have to get used to if the kid was sticking around for longer, he wasnt opposed to it at least. 


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles was shaken awake with hands on his shoulders and the stabbing pain of Fas dancing pointed claws up and down his thighs. He shot his hand out to bat the cat away only to feel the foreign feeling of his hand passing through smoke as Fas darted away from the oncoming hit.

Chris laughed and Stiles groaned, hand coming up to rub at his eyes. He blinked away to see Chris stood beside him with the door open, the car was parked outside some motel that Stiles didn’t at all recognise.

“Where are we?”

Chris nodded around to the motel, “I parked us here and called your dad, I figured if you didn’t want people knowing you were back, driving around in your car wouldn’t be our best bet. I paid the motel owner for five nights to keep the jeep here, and I’ve ordered a rental car to be delivered to your dads tomorrow.”

Stiles nodded, he really hadn’t thought any of that through and he’d forgotten just how recognisable his car really was to the small town that always knew one another’s business.

“What did my dad say?”

“He was confused to know you came back but understood that you would want to keep a low profile.”

He smiled, his dad was a lot more supportive than he might have guessed he would have been when he found out his only child wanted nothing to do with the town he grew up in all because of what had happened to his face. It was nice to know people still took what he cared about into account.

He figured Chris’ hunter background made him the exact person that Stiles needed to learn a few tricks from, if he had been driving them back he would have taken them all the way into Beacon Hills and then got trapped trying to explain where he had been from people he had been trying to avoid. Turning his thoughts to what he would be thinking of if he was a hunter one particular thought caught him.

“Can I borrow a sweater?”

Chris looked across at Stiles, Stiles and his dirty t-shirt that showed off just the tattoo on his wrist, it wasn’t something he couldn’t hide with just the hoodie that was strewn into the backseat.

Stiles frowned at him and then moved to where his eyesight was focused on. He rolled his eyes but made no move to get the hoodie rather than asking the Argent for the sweater that Stiles knew he had because he happened to be wearing it.

“Please?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want them to recognise my scent if I’m wearing your sweater they won’t think anything of it because they will know you’re back, because you aren’t hiding from them.”

Chris rolled his eyes but pulled off his sweater and handed it across. The kid was clearly nothing if not well prepared.

“Thanks.”

Stiles rubbed it up and down his jeans before he pulled it on over the top of his dirty t-shirt, he didn’t want to risk further embarrassment by asking for some of his pants so he just had to hope this would work just as well.

He wasn’t planning on spending much of his time around people while he was there, his face would stand out that was a definite and he really did not want to run into anyone. But if all his time in the woods taught him anything it was that there was always a wolf nearby.

Pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket he scrolled through the few contacts he hadn’t deleted, yep he’d deleted Chris.

“Will you put your phone number in my phone please, I deleted almost all the ones I had when I left here, I didn’t think you’d ever leave France.”

Chris nodded, making sure to send himself a text from Stiles’ phone so that they could both keep in touch with one another.

“Lets lay down a ground plan before your dad gets here, I understand you don’t want to see anyone and I’m not going to pretend I understand why. I assume you’ll be staying at your dad's and I’ll find somewhere, we tell one another anything that is happening, I won’t have you disappearing on me here. You keep the demons to yourself and we’re here to find Kate.”

“Yeah I got it, I’ll be in the woods or at my dad's, I do not plan on seeing anyone, I hadn’t even planned to come back until this. One of us needs to go look at the school, I suggest you go speak to the pack and if they’re all with you I’ll go have a look at the school undisturbed. At night I’ll be wearing the mask, I’m not risking anything.”

Chris nodded, Stiles was pressing down on the idea that he was not to be seen. He was hiding his face, hiding his scent and Chris was even helping him to hide his car. Chris really did wonder what had happened to the loyal excitable kid that he had once watched try to save all of his friends alone even when he was just human, he was so closed off and so adamant that he didn’t want contact with anyone that this was just a new man. He was so considerably different yet equally the same. Chris knew that Stiles would stop at nothing working with him, the two of them shared a common goal and with a newly minted magic user Chris felt safer than ever in a town that killed his little girl.

Eventually, after some time that involved Stiles coaxing the cat demon back into the tattoo on his skin, Sheriff Stilinski pulled up beside them.

Chris and Noah Stilinski shared that nod that all parents seemed to adapt into their vocabulary when they met other parents. The nod was shared before Stiles wrapped his arms around his dad for what felt like the first time in years rather than a few days.

“Hey, kid didn’t think I’d be seeing you this soon. I got your postcards.”

Stiles grinned and wiped at the tears in his eyes, he was an independent man he didn’t cry just because he hadn’t seen his dad in a week that wasn’t what independent men did. Oh fuck it, he’d missed his dad.

“Yeah, I’m not staying though, we’re just here to track Kate Argent and then as soon as that is done I’m gone.”

“I get it, kid, I’m just glad to see you. I’m guessing from what Chris has told me you’ll be keeping away from things while you’re here.”

“Yeah, I can’t see them, dad.”

“I’m not saying I get it, son, but no one has been by to find you so they aren’t worth it kid.”

It hurt something inside him to know that they hadn’t even cared enough about him to even ask about his disappearance, granted a week of avoiding them wouldn’t raise any suspicions after his month or so in the woods after the Nogitsune. He should have known it would have taken them a minimum of three months to notice, that and another month to even plan anything that resembled coming to look for him, and that was just the Derek incident. But it still stung, he tried not to think about this but it was hard not to when it was practically spelled out to your face. They didn’t care Stiles.

Chris and Noah shared equally worried looks at how down he seemed knowing they hadn’t gone looking for him. He seemed so prepared for being independent, but they should have known how much they meant to him despite everything. They recognised that something drastic had happened to send him so far away looking for himself, the scarring on his face suggested it was maybe more than drastic, maybe dangerous but he still wasn’t willing to share those details. It was his secret and it was maybe hurting more than just him.

Noah clapped him on the shoulder and steered him towards his car. He sat him in the back where he could duck down and hide from everything and everyone where Chris sat in the front seat, Stiles backpack, mask and essentials were sheltered between his legs. He knew the kid was overwhelmed being back in Beacon Hills and he would need this stuff for their purpose of being back in Beacon Hills before Stiles made another run as far away as he could get.

Stiles slumped in the back of the car, his head bracketed between his knees, his magic ached in Beacon Hills the Nemeton just called to him to be more than just a kid, to be the Warlock Fas knew he could be, to stop the danger before it started.

It didn’t matter how long they were planning on being in Beacon Hills, he would be spending some unquantifiable amount of time with that fucked up tree, he needed to solidify his status as not going to be there forever. He was lucky it was still calling out for him or he was certain he would be having trouble trying to find it like last time. That was always a worry.

“Keep your head down, Stiles,” Chris warned clearly spotting one of the many people Stiles had vowed to avoid while they were here. He didn’t move his head but he did twitch at being addressed, he’d zoned out thinking of all the things that circled around that dreaded tree including the near-sacrifice of the two men in the car with him. If he could burn it and get rid of it he would have done, but instinct told him that things would only get worse without it there to control certain ley-lines that Beacon Hills depended upon.

The police cruiser’s radio crackled to life and Stiles felt him zone back into the situation.

“Sheriff, a kid covered in blood ran into the ER, we sent a unit to his house his whole family is dead.”

Stiles froze same old Beacon Hills, at this rate the sign that says the population on the way into the town will only count the supernaturals because they have the lives of cats or even multiple cats.

Sheriff Stilinski picked up the radio, cleared his throat and then pressed the call button, “have the bodies taken to the morgue, I’ll meet them there, thank you, deputy.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

He set the radio down and pulled the car over at the side of the road, “I’m going to the hospital now, I don’t want to trap you in my car but I can’t take you all the way home, Stiles. You can get out here and I’ll meet you at home, or I can drop you off somewhere in town?”

Stiles pulled his head out from between his legs and looked around at where they were, it was just a road leading into town with woods on either side, he would take it.

“Yeah, I’ll get out here, thanks, dad. Chris I’ll message you to meet tomorrow or later this evening or whenever, but I’m gonna walk and see if I find anything on my way.”

Chris nodded promising to text him the details of what was going on in their search for Kate Argent, he passed him his bag and his mask which Stiles promptly put over his face, adjusting the straps before throwing his backpack onto his shoulders. He looked like the worlds weirdest backpacker. His dad didn’t fail to share his confused look with the two of them but he did refrain from saying anything, he figured he could get his answers later.

Stiles looked out on the woods, felt the familiar presence of everything he grew up with and an ache in the pit of his stomach that told him something wasn’t quite right. Chris and Noah watched as he stood looking over the woods before something inside him told him to turn right and just start walking.

Noah turned to Chris with a puzzled look on his face but it wasn’t as if Chris had many more answers for him, “do you think he's okay?”

Chris shook his head, “I’m not sure, he seemed so when I bumped into him in Mexico, I think whatever happened to him here is just resurfacing.”

“You don’t know either?” Noah asked shocked.

“He wouldn’t tell me. I’m worried about what I will do when I find out, I think what will be more shocking isn’t who it is but that the person could do that to Stiles.”

“I’ve thought about it since he left but I couldn’t pick one person, we all distanced from one another after Allison.”

Chris looked down sadly, he understood, he was the one who’d left for France but had immediately returned when he heard his sister was running a rampage through Beacon Hills, harming Derek and attacking them. He was almost certain finding out who had injured Stiles would be more so shocking than finding out his sister was now categorised as a Werejaguar never mind back from the dead.

Chris looked out of the window of the car as Noah drove them further into the heart of town and further away from where they had dropped Stiles, he prayed the boy didn’t have the reunion he’d so adamantly refused. He had no back up out there, he was completely alone, especially if whoever had hurt him was out there too. He wished profusely that it was not the case.

Good luck, Stiles.


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles trekked maybe a mile in the complete opposite direction of Beacon Hills before he had to stop and slide the mask off of his face so it rested atop of his hair, he was sweating profusely and the feeling of slicked-up metal against his face just wasn’t pleasant at all.

It was also in that mile that he realised he absolutely detested being alone, he’d been spoilt having always been around people for the past five days that he was almost gladdened to remember he had two constant companions living in the same body like him.

He summoned Fas first which was to be expected, he liked Fas a little more than he knew Baalmo. The cat stretched and blinked up at him. The snake slithered out of his ribs and curled up on the grassy forest floor.

**‘Finally, wondered if you would forever favour Fastian.’**

“Well, he didn’t try to kill me when we first met.”

**‘I’m just glad to be out. Where are you heading, Warlock?’**

“I don’t actually know, something in me is telling me I need to go this way.”

_‘Perfect opportunity to have a stretch in the woods, wouldn’t you say so Baalmo?’_

**‘I’m intrigued, Warlock lead us.’**

Stiles shook his head at the personalities of his two demon companions, both too black to be real animals, so black they looked darker than a night sky. Another indicator that they could not pass off as real animals were the colours of their eyes, yellow and crimson were not technically what you would find in the list for common eye colours and that was a certainty to Stiles.

To think back on the current case of deaths in Beacon Hills, Stiles remembered the other reason why he was so adamant in his want to stay away. Bad things always happened in their town and he was already feeling the pull back into this problem, he knew if he stayed here long enough his curiosity would only lead him to stay.

His dad wouldn’t oppose it, of that he was sure, but he knew if one unknown led him to stay while he still had the chance to leave more would only crop up and he would find himself contained in a toxic environment even if he did try to forever avoid the pack. People would find out and he couldn’t be the person to divide their thoughts, to think they needed Scott for his alpha werewolf quality but worry that they would be offending him for sticking by him. He didn’t want the pity or the excuses that he knew would come from everyone knowing of what caused his scars. He wanted it to be nothing, it didn’t affect him, it didn’t affect how the Morales Pack or the Calavera’s treated him so why should the people who knew him best treat him any different for it.

He wouldn’t have the opportunity to do what he wanted to if he stayed there, his want to become a solver of problems wouldn’t be fulfilled in a place where he would be avoided for three white lines on his face, where he would be judged before he was spoken to, where he would be ignored by the pack. If they didn’t want his expertise he would just take it elsewhere and that was his only choice. His dad would always be in Beacon Hills so his home would always be in Beacon Hills but he was safest as far away as he could get.

His feet carried him as he walked, the sunlight was leaking through the treetops, making the cat and the snake seem blacker than ever, he remembered for a moment that Casas Grandes was an hour ahead of Beacon Hills so they’d gained another hour into their time of looking around the woods for any sign that Kate Argent was hiding in the woods.

Baalmo and Fas were sniping at each other and chasing one another through the woods, two demons living their best life while the Warlock they had pledged themselves to was at war with his own mind.

While he wrestled with his own mind he failed to notice the increased magic in the woods around him, his focus was on his life after Beacon Hills and making sure he wouldn’t trip over any outlying branches, not on the flutter of movement amidst the leaves.

Fas launched at Baalmo, the snake evaded and Fas vanished with an audible pop.

Baalmo and Stiles blinked at the point at which Fas vanished, there was no suggestible reason for what happened, and it also seemed there was no demonic explanation for Baalmo conveyed as much confusion as Stiles felt.

“Fas?”

**‘Fastian is not present on this plane of existence any longer, Warlock.’**

Stiles swallowed his worry and rubbed at the back of his head, he didn’t understand what that could possibly mean, Fas couldn’t just be gone. That wasn’t it, was it?

**‘What now, Warlock?’**

“I don’t know.”

Baalmo hissed and Stiles had the faintest nagging sensation that the snake just rolled its eyes at him. Tears threatened in his eyes, he never thought he would lose anyone he’d come to want to protect so fiercely before, but here they were in a forest with no clue where the cat had just disappeared to.

Disappeared. Vanished. Gone. Not present on this plane of existence.

Where was Fas?

Stiles swallowed his nerves as he stepped forwards, his eyes shone with unshed tears, mourning for the outright loss of something he’d actually begun to consider a friend. Left alone with the other something he could hardly describe as a companion, but that was unfair to Baalmo, they just hadn’t had a very warm first meeting. Fas was the glue between the two of them, the whole reason he had even agreed to host the serpent upon his skin.

He sniffed, he couldn’t wipe it where it was hidden beneath the metal of the mask, some things couldn’t be helped when he so adamantly favoured keeping his identity forever a secret, he just couldn’t wipe his nose.

Baalmo slithered along the forest floor beside him, matching his movements for almost fear of losing another companion, the two of them were in the same boat, neither wanted for Fas what had happened and neither wanted it to happen again. Stiles wasn’t sure what he would do so far away from help if he lost them both at the same time, cry probably, but that wasn’t the answer he really wanted to have.

The last step forwards had Stiles feeling incredibly woozy, his ears popped and his mind spun, he felt immediately nauseous, and his legs fell out from under him.

But he didn’t hit the floor, his eyes were closed but he never felt the impact, there was a whoosh and a familiar hiss. He hadn’t fallen alone, or not fallen, or whatever had happened. Tears ran free down his face behind the mask, his strange descent into whatever had happened had caused a lack of restraint, yeah Powerful Warlock, Stiles mentally scoffed.

When he eventually opened his eyes he was surprised at the softness of the colours surrounding him, nothing was too bright or harsh, it was all just incredibly comforting and sort of quelled his nausea. His mask was still present upon his face, familiar metal touching skin that felt too cool to still be in that forest where he remembered the cool metal becoming sticky with sweat.

He blinked a couple of times before he realised he was being held up between two almost unbelievably beautiful people, one male and one female.

His eyes shot around as he failed to locate one black snake and one black cat.

His breaths quickened as he recognised nothing, two other people were being held almost alike himself by unbelievably beautiful people, held before someone sat on what almost resembled a throne made of nettles? But Stiles wasn’t certain.

He narrowed his eyes at the person sat upon the throne, they clearly shared the same genes as the unbelievably beautiful people that seemed to be holding him captive. Even the two other people were incredibly attractive like Stiles was like on the bottom tier of attractiveness for the people in the room alone. That made him feel even worse about it all.

“What’s going on?”

The words fell out of Stiles’ mouth before he had time to think of a clever quip, he was just relieved his brain had gone for the more logical words than him beginning to wax poetic about the genetics of everyone in the room except him. That was definitely the portion of dignity he would never ever be able to reclaim in any plane of existence.

The overwhelming beauty on the throne pursed their lips at him, looked at the others being held like captives in a fantasy film before they stood up, skin so smooth and so delicate shining in the glow of the softness of the colours.

“You entered territory unannounced, that is improper and rude, and should never be undertaken by an underling.”

Stiles frowned, he had no clue what was going on.

“You - what? Pardon?”

What looked like a permanent frown that was etched flawlessly into delicate features didn’t even alter as he tried to express his complete and utter confusion at what was going on.

One of the other captives glanced at him fearfully, her eyes were familiar as were the man’s beside her, but the man only rolled his eyes and huffed his breath spiralling out into the air like the reverse of snowflakes falling down from the sky.

“Manners are a true strength, Mr Stilinski, I would have thought your mother would have taught you that lesson.”

Stiles’ wonderment at the situation that he had found himself in disappeared almost immediately after that comment. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched.

“Don’t talk about my mother.”

They turned to look at him, eyes pulled away from where they had been inspecting the flawless cuticles of their left hand. Their eyes twinkled and it made Stiles want to scream at them.

“Claudia does not know you are here I gather, nor that you came in the company of demons.”

“My mother is dead.”

Silence harshened the softness of the colours, almost everyone in the room stiffened up. Even the one who had brought up his mother in the first place.

“I am tremendously sorry, I understand if you do not accept my apology for words I have spoken have directly harmed you inside and that is unfortunate. Time passes differently for us, knowing you are seventeen and that when we last spoke to Claudia you were seven it has been ten years. We never heard word, but knowing this I can gather she never discussed with you your heritage.”

Stiles thought about responding harshly but the two people with those familiar eyes were watching him again. The man was stood stock still but had a calming effect about him, where the woman was looking on edge and worried.

“I didn’t even know she was a witch until some of the dryads near the old Hale estate told me.”

They nodded, looking back at him and waved their hand, the people holding him, the man and the woman let go and walked away.

“I apologise for my unwelcoming stance on the matter, if Claudia is indeed dead we will suitably mourn her in our culture and welcome in the newest Warlock’s of the Gajos clan into the peace coalition that is defended almost ruthlessly in Beacon Hills between the fairies, the dryads, the nymphs and the naiads.”

“You’re fairies?”

The man huffed and crossed his arms, “Warlock, you must trust your instincts or we will all be in more trouble than this.”

Stiles gaped at the man, familiar eyes and the way he spoke made the realisation wash over him like he truly was dense, “Fas?”

The man waved, and Stiles could almost imagine his tail swishing in that annoyed fashion he favoured when he felt he had the upper hand of the situation. If the cat was this man, that meant that the woman was “Baalmo?”

The woman waved, her crimson eyes clear as day now that he had stopped ignoring the tugging in his gut that had been present since before Fas the cat had vanished into nothingness, or otherwise the fairy realm of California.

Stiles couldn’t even fully understand how they were even human in front of him, his mind felt like it was going to explode. He was in the fairy realm, with fairies. Fas was a man and Baalmo was a woman. They were human. He was human. His mother knew fairies. He now knew fairies.

The person who he’d been speaking to, the one who had gotten off of that throne, fairy royalty - brilliant he’d been trash-talking royalty, good going Stiles, perfect job there - they came towards him with a flourish.

“Warlock Stilinski I must introduce myself for you are unknowing of who I am. I am Queen of the Fairies, Callista.”

Stiles eyed the two demons out of the corner of his eye and noticed that they were both indicating him to move in a bow like fashion, he got the hint.

“Pleasure to meet you formally, Queen Callista, please call me Stiles.”

He bent at the waist so he bowed to her before he stood back up again, the smile that was present upon her lips hinted he had finally got something right since he had been there.

“Well Warlock Stiles, I fear we may have kept you here longer than you may think. Time here runs slower than it does outside, for a minute here an hour may have passed in your world, fear not we can perform some magic to rewind time as far back as a day, so you can perhaps not miss too much of outside. With time, your knowledge of magic and your power you may become adept at performing this magic to a greater extent than we are able. For now, I would wish to bestow upon you a gift for your trouble, to ward off situations such as this in future.”

Stiles nodded, uncertain of what he may have been about to receive, but he didn’t need his demons’ assistance to know that passing up whatever he was about to be on the receiving end of could only end badly and thus he was forced to accept whatever it came to be.

She smiled giddily and clapped her hands, before reaching out and beckoning him forwards.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Baalmo gripped Fas’ arm almost fearful for him, he knew he’d win the snake over eventually and more so now had he learnt about the snake, the cocky self-serving attitude was more of a mask to hide how much she truly cared about those she surrounded herself with.

He took Callista’s hand, sure he was worried for what was about to happen, but he was not about to make the mistake of turning what might be a huge population of fairies against him all because he was too fearful to accept a gift offered to him from a queen.

She slid his mask off of his face and rested it upon his hair, the leather straps slack on the back of his head but it didn’t tumble off, only remained still on his head. Her eyes softened at the scars on his face but she said little of it.

“I think nothing of it anymore, Queen Callista.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t mourn the innocence that was taken away with the attack.”

He froze up considerably when she let go of his hand in favour of removing Chris’ sweater and then his shirt, they went deep when removing his mask he did not think this was going to have lead from that. Yeah, this was not how he was expecting this gift giving to go. Like, hello, virgin! He could imagine Fas laughing at him, he didn’t need to turn around to see it, it was humiliating enough to even just imagine it.

And if he didn’t think it could get worse he was wrong, her fingernails trailed over his skin and he could practically feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Mood killer that was a definite mood killer. He was seventeen for Christ's sake, seventeen and essentially just a big ball of nerves, ADHD and hormones. He was being touched by a very beautiful Queen of the fairies who had offered to bestow upon him a gift and his two friends were in the corner watching him and probably laughing.

Her pointed nails trailed across the snake tattoo on his ribs and he immediately felt nauseous. She backed away from it as she noted the reaction he had, his reaction and the yelp that came from Baalmo in the corner.

Her eyes narrowed from the snake tattoo on his ribs, the paw print on his inner wrist and the protection rune on his shoulder.

“You are powerful, Warlock.”

He hummed his agreement, he wasn’t certain what he would say if he could speak, he figured it wouldn’t be very flattering to her opinion of him so he tried to not let words leave his mouth.

“More so than even Claudia perhaps. You host two demons with no adverse effects, interesting. I considered a physical gift, but with your ability to host such power perhaps a new mark would be more worthy.”

He shrugged, he wasn’t really following, he was trying to keep his hormones in check, that and trying to stop himself crying every single time she brought up his mother. He didn’t need to start bawling in front of the Queen of the Fairies, he was certain that would be what would convince her of his lack of power not his strengths.

“I apologise in advance, Warlock, the pain may be much.”

She gave him little time to process that information as the palm of her hand flattened against the left side of his neck. The heat that came with it was almost unbearable, he screamed through clenched teeth and tried to stand as still as he could make himself. Something within himself told him that to pull away would only bring with it so much more pain and this was already almost too much for him, never mind more.

Her hand was pressed against his neck for a minimum of ten seconds but by the time the pain dimmed, he was certain he could not have lasted any longer. He was screwed if anyone decided to torture him, realistically though he probably knew absolutely nothing that torturers would be interested in so he also would have nothing to tell them.

He blinked away the tears in his eyes, his fingers trembling from the pain he had just managed to keep himself standing for.

Callista apologised with a blink of her eyes, “it is a passage rune, a mark to let fairies know you are an ally and not an enemy, though it should be known that your demons will have to remain a part of you within your body for them to make the trip with you.”

Stiles rubbed a hand against the now only warm part of the skin on his neck but thanked her anyway, he didn’t see when he would be traversing back down to the fairy realm but he figured everything was a possibility now that he even knew of fairies.

“And they-” he gestured towards Fas and Baalmo, “-will be human or demon when we pass back through?”

Callista shook her head with a fond smile, “they will return to their animal forms, I transformed them human so we could talk easier without you as a translator.”

Stiles nodded, he didn’t know if he preferred them animal or human but it sure was interesting to learn of their true genders, he had been referring to them without gender because he had never even thought that demons could be male or female. To be fair he had been somewhat leaning to them both being male, but Baalmo being female really wasn’t anything too shocking, she was a snake and he didn’t really know how to gender a snake so maybe it was just his fault.

Callista seemed to take his silence as accepting and moved to herd him back towards his demonic companions.

“I’ll send you back through 24 hours, you would have been gone from your world maybe thirteen hours, maybe more, I’m afraid there is little more we can do.”

Stiles nodded, thirteen hours to disappear for was a long time, he would just have to get in touch with his dad and Chris as soon as they got back. It would be hard to explain but he would also be returning with a new tattoo and the pain almost branded into his mind, there was little more he could do to explain it.

“That’s fine, we can work with that.”

Callista nodded, the small smile on her face dimmed when she waved over the two demons.

“It may make you nauseous but it is fae magic, it takes time to get used to it.”

Stiles pulled his mask secure over his face as he prepared for the trip back. Baalmo was still gripping Fas’ arm like she was afraid he was going to vanish into thin air all over again.

The whoosh of Callista’s send-off had Stiles sprawling to the floor. His mask hit twigs and they were back in California. His eyes swam and his head pounded, he really hated fae magic, he could feel that nausea she warned them of.

It seemed that he wasn’t the only one feeling it as he rolled onto his back in enough time to miss the vomit spewing out of Fas’ mouth where he had been lying. The cat whined as he threw up again and again until he was just retching air. Stiles winced for him and pulled him towards him, balling up his t-shirt where it had come through with them, and wiped at the cat’s mouth with the already dirty material. Baalmo lay almost dead-like beside Fas’ he didn’t know what nausea in snakes looked like but he feared that’s how she was feeling.

Stiles pulled Chris’ sweater back over his frame as he stood up and found his backpack on the floor.

He picked Baalmo up gingerly and placed her around his neck like a weird scarf before he reached down to pick up Fas. He didn’t think either of them wanted to ride out their nausea by being trapped back in his body but he also didn’t have time to just let their stomachs settle and so he was forced to carry them.

Fas mewled at his movements but didn’t try to escape, he figured that was enough of an endorsement to begin his trek back towards Beacon Hills, his head spinning. He had another couple of hours to get his head on straight, his story set and his plans figured out. They would find Kate, they would avoid the people, they would be gone. 

If only things were ever as easy as plans made them sound. 


	19. Chapter 19

Stiles was nearing the Beacon Hills pack territory when he sensed someone following him. He was near exhausted, a sleepy cat tucked into his backpack and exhausted snake draped around his neck, he was exactly the type of person they wouldn’t have wanted in Beacon Hills when he was there so there was no doubt they would be wanting him gone.

He slowed his walking pace from a fast march to a slow waltz. He just wanted whoever it was to approach him fast, he didn’t want some sort of cat and mouse act, he wanted to meet up with Chris find out what he had missed in those thirteen hours he’d been completely awol and then collapse into a lovely comatose sleep. He wanted Fas and Baalmo somewhere safe before he settled down for the night or morning as it may turn into, he didn’t need to be crept up on in a fit of exhaustion, he didn’t want to react badly, he wanted to keep his magic as close to his chest as he could manage it.

“Whoever you are, could you please put me out of my misery and tell me why you’re following me?”

He’d had enough of the lurker following him amidst the darkness and trees. He was too tired to even turn around to face them, all he really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep.

There was some movement behind him and Stiles rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but be annoyed by the simplistic move of trying to remain mysterious. No one would be more mysterious than Stiles, he was the one in the mask after all.

He placed a hand on Baalmo to make sure she didn’t react badly to what was happening, Fas was tucked out of the way, he wouldn’t be an issue unless he decided to launch himself at something else and vanish into nothingness again.

Spinning around, even despite his sleepiness he still recognised who it was, Derek Hale. Brilliant.

Want to avoid everyone you’ve been desperately trying to escape? Well don’t go walking exhausted through the woods near their house, when they're territorial, they’ll surely find you.

Luckily Derek didn’t seem to recognise him either, though he might have, of course, he didn’t know what the world knew about him not being anywhere these days, maybe he just didn’t care.

“Is there something you need?” Stiles groaned out pressing his hand up to his skull, it was thrumming with the beginnings of what felt like a potentially awful migraine. He was too tired to make useful conversation with a werewolf known for his grumpiness.

“You smell like Chris Argent.”

“Yeah, I’m wearing his sweater.” Stiles was not in the mood for a cryptic conversation, so what if he smelled of hunter Chris Argent, what on earth did that matter to werewolf Derek Hale. Could he go now?

Derek, it was possible, got grumpier.

“What are you doing here?”

“Aha the question of the hour! But we’re tracking Kate.”

“Out here?”

“I had other business. I’m just going to meet Chris and then I can get out of your territory.”

Derek stared at him, Stiles still hadn’t really gathered if Derek knew it was him or not. At this rate, it seemed neither one of them cared.

“Argent is back?”

Stiles blinked, he thought for sure that Chris would have gotten in touch with Scott at least to get a hold of what had been going on. Get some information about the Chris situation, clearly, he was wrong.

“Yeah, I’ve been out of touch with him for thirteen hours, last I knew he was with the sheriff.”

“I would have thought you’d know what your dads been up to, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked, he was too tired for this, he’d thought Derek hadn’t known who he was. Wasn’t that why they were treating each other like neither one knew what was up.

“You knew?”

“You smell the same despite the sweater. What’s with the mask?”

“A friend gave it to me. Plus I thought it would help to hide who I was.”

Derek frowned, “why do you want that?”

Stiles guffawed, he really did just want out of this conversation so much. He needed that teleportation spell.

“I don’t know Derek, maybe I just don’t want to be here.”

“Then why are you back?”

“We’re hunting Kate! Okay! I wasn’t lying when I said that before, I’m here with Chris who was with my dad and we are looking for the crazy bitch who’d had you held beneath a temple in Mexico. Okay?”

“You knew I was in Mexico? Why weren’t you with Scott?”

“Come on, something must have been said, I’m actually pretty interested to know what they’re telling people about it. Come on, what did they say?”

He shook his head, “they didn’t know where you were, Scott said you just disappeared. Peter didn’t know what had happened.”

Stiles scoffed, “you’ve been talking to the wrong people since you got back. But if they’re saying I just disappeared I guess I’m happy to keep up that charade, better not tumble that house of cards.”

Baalmo was shifting on his neck and Fas was moving about in his bag, he forgot that the demons were practically one with him now and they could probably feel his discomfort with this whole conversation. He didn’t need to be explaining two demons to a werewolf that he already felt uncomfortable discussing what had happened to him too.

“So what, you’re just going to hang out in these woods while things happen in town. You could help, you’ve always been able to help.”

“I mean I probably could but that isn’t the point. I’m not staying Derek, not in Beacon Hills and they’ve got to learn to solve these things without me. I won’t always come back, I wasn’t even going to but I bumped into Chris and well to think of Kate running around causing havoc just rubs me the wrong way. I’ll help with that but after that, I’m gone.”

“I don’t understand, Stiles, why are you running away?”

“Because I can’t be here. I can’t pretend as if nothing bothers me here, I didn’t plan to bump into anyone, I wanted nothing to do with this conversation. Didn’t even want to think about it. It’s better if no one knows what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can I just go? Can we leave this alone?”

He tried to move around him, his head was absolutely pounding, he couldn’t be here, he just wanted to be at home, sleeping and then they could go find Kate Argent. All of this just sucked. Derek held a hand out to stop him, his face creased up in an attempt to look concerned but Stiles only felt annoyed, he needed no one's concern and no one's pity. He also didn’t want their anger or their apologetic words if he told them what actually happened to him. He just wanted to be allowed to go.

“Stiles talk to me, what is all this?”

“I don’t know what this is, I don’t have the words for it. All I know is that I can’t see anyone here, that I didn’t want to see anyone here and now you’re here and you won’t let me go and now I don’t want to be here.”

Stiles was getting all worked up, he was too tired and too frustrated to be dealing with any of this right now. It sucked that Derek had finally begun to pay attention to what was happening to him now, now when he did not want him to pay any attention to him at all.

“My car is down the road, let me get you home.”

Stiles looked up from where his gaze had been focused on the forest floor, Derek looked concerned but Stiles wasn’t receiving any negative vibes from his instincts. He couldn’t help but know that it would be much preferred to get driven home rather than hiking it back all through the woods. He was dead on his feet now it was unknown whether he would successfully get all the way home. He just hoped that this wasn’t some ploy to get him back in a room with the pack and to fix things that Derek didn’t even know about, he didn’t want to get asked any questions and he definitely did not want to talk about it.

“I will accept this, but no questions and you take me straight home.”

Derek nodded, Stiles wasn’t a human lie detector but he hoped his trust in Derek was not misplaced.

* * *

 

He settled into the car, all the weight off of his feet he immediately felt like he could just slip into a sleep coma. Derek looked across at him, concerned again but he didn’t say anything.

Baalmo curled up in his lap much to Derek’s pain to have a black poisonous looking snake in his car, his backpack was tucked between his feet, with enough room for Fas to peek out of it and look questionably towards him. Stiles shook his head, they’d talk later, he didn’t need to give Derek any more reason to want to have a deep and insightful conversation with him.

“You’ve picked up pets since I saw you last.”

He knew Derek was attempting to make a joke to him but he couldn’t help but be put off with the knowledge that he only saw the two demons as the animals they pretended to be.

“They aren’t pets, more like companions, but yes.”

“They’ve still got names though, yeah?”

“Yeah, the cat is Fastian and Baalmo is the snake.”

“Good names.”

“Yeah, I guess. What’s with the small talk, Derek? Just take me home.”

Derek huffed and turned his eyes back to the road, there was clearly a lot more he wanted to say to him but Stiles just wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t want to discuss Baalmo and Fas, he didn’t want to discuss the new marks that now adorned his skin and he definitely didn’t want to discuss the mask that still covered his face. But he knew that they were all the main topics that were clearly imprinted upon Derek’s brain, he just needed to get out of the car and get away before he worked up the spunk to ask and not care what Stiles’ angry response would be.

“Why are you and Chris hunting, Kate Argent? I understand Chris because I know Scott texted him but if you’re so adamant that you never wanted to be back here why did you come back?”

“You never give up, do you? When did our roles reverse? Look, I had nothing better to do, is that what you wanted to hear? I had nothing else to do in Mexico, I went there to make sure the others got you out safely but after that and the favours I owed were due I didn’t have anything to do. I bumped into Chris, he told me about what he was going to do and I just asked if I could come with him. Case closed, nothing special, as soon as we get it done I’m gone. None of this will matter after I’m gone, no one will know I was here except for the people who won’t tell anyone and hopefully I’ll never have to come back.”

Derek frowned at him, “why are you so adamant to not stay here?”

Stiles sighed, Derek would not give up, would he? He would have just told him about it but he didn’t want to turn one of Beacon Hills’ allies against the others just because of what happened to him. He couldn’t do that, he would not leave Beacon Hills unprotected just because he couldn’t stick around and left all of his friends in ruin worrying that sticking around would be against what happened to him and leaving would abandon Beacon Hills unprotected.

“Things happened while you were gone. Things were said, things were done, no one came out of it unscarred I just decided it would be better if I took myself out of here before even more things happened.”

Derek’s face fell. He gestured to the mask, “is that why you wear it?”

Stiles nodded, “some things will just change things and I don’t want to be the reason those things change.”

Derek pulled up outside of Stiles’ house and suddenly he felt marginally unburdened, he had an out if he wanted one. Derek seemed to understand this as he turned to look at him properly for the first time since they sat down in the car.

“Will you show me?”

Stiles blinked, it was the softest he’d ever heard Derek speak to him and his hand came up, trembling to touch at his mask. He closed his eyes and pulled it up to rest on his head.

“Who did it?”

Stiles shook his head. He wasn’t doing that, not here, not now, probably not ever. He didn’t tell his dad, he didn’t tell Chris and he wouldn’t tell Derek. That was his secret, his, Scott’s, Lydia’s, Kira’s and Malia’s, it wasn’t an unknown secret it just seemed to remain well hidden and if that’s the way it was Stiles planned to keep it that way.

Before he could give Derek another chance to quiz him about his life since they'd last seen one another, he turned his back made sure Baalmo and Fas were secured and then fled up the drive to his house. He'd be fielding questions from his dad and Chris, he didn't need it from Derek too, he made his quick escape and aimed straight for his bed.


	20. Chapter 20

He picked up on where he left off with Chris when the man arrived at the door of his house the next morning, a serious expression on his face and the worry that came when Stiles hadn’t responded to any of his many texts. He had thought that something could have happened to Stiles, when in reality after he’d gotten in from evading Derek’s many questions he had fallen into the deepest sleep he’d had the pleasure of getting since before the situation with the Nogitsune.

During the night the demons had slipped back into their 2D portrayal fixed to his skin. He was somewhat thankful for that, trying to remain in contact with the two demons was frustrating at best. He was never going to control them because he didn’t want to be that person, but it was exhausting to know that they would forever be tethered to him and thus his responsibility.

His dad had clearly left him alone to sleep off his exhaustion as he was no longer in the house where Chris was trying to formulate a plan with him.

“You didn’t find anything when you were out there?”

Stiles shook his head, a hand holding his chin up so he could face the older man.

“I found the California population of fairies but I didn’t find any trace of Kate.”

Chris blinked at his answer but didn’t question it, Stiles’ voice wasn’t laced with sarcasm and the serious look on his face gave some weight to his words. Words that would have had people ignoring what he had said a few months ago, they would have laughed it off before turning elsewhere for someone to be more serious in their conversation with them. Now Stiles hardly joked and when he did it was fairly obvious for the smile that was always present and accompanied his sarcasm. He knew too much now for anything to seem impossible, for all he knew someone out there might turn into the Abominable Snowman during the full moon, there was nothing saying they couldn’t.

“Okay so, how are we planning on doing this? You don’t want to speak to anyone we know here so how do you want to do this.”

“I think we can pretty much say she isn’t in Beacon Hills, I have a feeling they would have found her if she was basing herself here. But I don’t know how we will track her when she’s clearly been gone a while. Derek knows I’m back, he might help.”

Chris blinked at Stiles’ admission but noted the way his facial expression hadn’t changed any even with his words.

“When did Derek find out?”

“He gave me a lift home last night. He just knows I’m back, he doesn’t know anything about the magic or the demons. I don’t really want to explain that to him, I don’t want to get into any of it with any of them.”

Stiles sighed and rested his head heavily against his arm, he was seriously regretting the decision to come back here. None of it, but a potential alliance with some fairies that he didn’t even know existed, gave him any reason to think of it as anything other than a serious regret.

“Your dad took me to see what the disturbance was yesterday, a family of wendigos were murdered, I think Beacon Hills might be falling into another unrelenting mystery. I think if Kate knows what’s best for her she will stay away.”

Stiles huffed out a breath, looked up and locked eyes with Chris, “you want to stay here, you want to make sure they have help? You came back to have a reason to stay, Kate was your reason to come back and all of this is what you hoped so you would have a reason to stay?”

Chris frowned, he hadn’t really thought about all of that before, he knew he hadn’t wanted to stay away for long, he’d wanted to bury Allison where their ancestors were from and he’d invited Isaac back with him because the kid had nowhere else to go and he’d formed a real bond with his daughter right before she died. But even with all of that he hadn’t planned on staying away forever, his insistence to not get involved in the supernatural was to stop his daughter getting in danger and now she was dead, he felt it was up to him to make sure no one else’s daughter died for something they could have prevented.

He hadn’t expected to run into Stiles Stilinski while he was passing through Mexico, doing a small check there for Kate because Scott had asked him to. He hadn’t expected to find out the hyperactive human was a newly minted magic user with a tether to two demonic beasts that made him even more powerful and even more elusive. He hadn’t expected to find that the kid had a new alias, something that had slowly been spreading through the hunting communities like a strange rumour, the kid's exploits had spread slowly through the communities, the Calavera’s and the Morales Pack played a large part in focusing on what and who the Manticore was. 

It was all the information Chris had found online which was more than he had gotten from Stiles, it was enough to only really want to know more of what had happened to him before he set off for Mexico.

“I probably will stay, yes, but I don’t want you leaving off on your own for another couple of days, I think I can help you out with some things first even if we have to do them at night.”

Stiles nodded, he was still particularly exhausted and just fancied crawling back into bed and just conducting all of his work in the darkness of the night.

“I want to find Kate, if that means tracking her back down to Mexico, I’ll do it. But even so I think she can wait a couple of days, I need to go back and speak to the fairies and the dryads but I can do that during the day.”

Chris nodded, he disliked the thought of Stiles conquering the world alone, the kid already looked particularly turned off to it all. He was much more dead looking back in Beacon Hills compared to his full energy level when they were in Mexico. It must have been the weight of keeping what happened to him a secret, Chris was itching to know but he knew he would just have to wait until Stiles was comfortable enough to tell him.

“Okay, I can get you prepared if you are going to go hunting for Kate. You both may be supernatural now but she still has the extra advantage of being trained as a hunter, she’ll know how not to be tracked which is why it is so hard for us to find her. Tonight meet me in the woods by the old Hale house, we’re going to see what your magic can do and if you can handle any of our hunter tricks.”

Stiles nodded, pressing his hand against his forehead, “when tonight, like any time?”

“When the sun starts to set, meet me out there.”

Stiles hummed his acceptance of the plan, his head was drawing into a pained thrum, the words he forced out next came out in a mangled groan, “I’m going to go back to bed. I’m so tired.”

Chris laughed rising from the table as he patted Stiles on the shoulder good-naturedly, it was fair enough if the kid was just going to go back to bed so long as he kept their appointment later. Chris was planning on putting him through his paces, basic training for a magic-wielding skinny human, he’d have to get him prepared for everything especially if he only had a couple of days in which to do it. If Stiles was willing he wouldn’t give up, he wanted to make sure he could keep him alive as best as he was able to. 

* * *

 

Stiles trekked into the woods, a bit brighter than he had been that morning but his body was annoyed at being out at night after sleeping through the day. Fas was roaming the forest next to him, yellow eyes poised to watch everything, Baalmo didn’t want to come out this time the summoning bringing her to the surface only to have her slipping back under moments later. Fas had huffed out a laugh but hadn’t said anything about it. Stiles didn’t much care, if she wanted to be out she could come out, if not she could stay put, it was ultimately her choice.

He found Chris a couple of miles away from the old Hale house, it had been through a mixture of his gut instinct and Fas’ advisements that he managed to get there. Chris had greeted him with a smile and then passed over a crossbow, so they were going right into this.

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to find me from one point without any instruction, how did you manage to find me?”

“It was a mixture of instinct, and Fas helped a little bit.”

Fas grinned next to him and it may have been the most terrifying thing Chris and Stiles had ever seen. His mouth split open like it was much larger than his small face should have fit, his teeth were white and huge and black saliva foamed at his mouth. Stiles was assured to know that even just holding the cat out as back up and asking Fas to grin may have many people running for the hills. Chris was just glad to know that the cat was on their side and not their enemy, he was pretty certain he would never want to face a demon if that’s what it looked like when it grinned, chills had run down his spine.

“Okay, do you know how to hold a crossbow?”

Stiles looked down at the heavy weapon before shaking his head at Chris, he knew little to nothing except for how to handle a gun, he and his dad used to go to the gun range to spend some time together after his mom had died. Sure they hadn’t done it in years but he was sure he could give it a good go.

They’d started the night out at nine and it was nearing midnight by the time he really wanted to stop. His arms ached and felt like jelly and Chris was still working him like he was about to be drafted into the army.

They’d pushed through basic crossbow knowledge, Stiles had managed to hit the target three times out of ten shots, Chris had claimed it a good start but Stiles knew he would be dead if they were relying on him with just basic knowledge. They’d moved to knife throwing after that and Stiles felt like this might have been something he’d have a better job of, and he did. All of his knives sunk into trees but if he hit the target that was another story, one fluke hit the middle and three others touched the outskirts of it. Chris nodded at his efforts, helped him with his stance and showed him better ways to get the knives to fly more accurately, he could maybe become proficient in knife throwing if he dedicated any time to it.

He’d not been as good at shooting a gun as he’d thought he’d be and he actually hated the experience. The knowledge that he’d be able to shoot one if he had to was comforting but he also knew it scared the shit out of him too and if he’d had the choice between knives and a gun he would surely choose the gun.

The hand-to-hand combat might have been the most humiliating experience of his life, his best time was upright for thirty seconds and his worst was when Chris took him down right off the bat, he’d barely approached the man before he’d swept his feet out from under him and Stiles felt like birdies were flying around his head with the impact.

He knew this would be the one skill Chris would be battering into him night after night at this rate and he was almost certain he would only feel more ashamed at himself as the days continued. Getting taken down by your friends dad really shouldn’t be something you could feel proud about at any point, even if you were a weak human being and they’d been trained by their psycho father probably since they were younger than you, Stiles would never feel not ashamed at getting taken down by someone twice his age, ever.

Fas had been sat at the edge of the clearing cleaning himself for the past two hours, there was laughter present in his yellowed eyes but that only spurred Stiles on more, at least the cat didn’t look disappointed. Stiles would hate himself if Fas was disappointed it would only prove to himself that the demons were forever wrong in thinking he could ever be their saviour.

It was when Fas stopped looking bored at their attempts at making Stiles less weak that Stiles finally paid any attention to the cat. Something in him was putting him on edge, his senses were sharper and he could almost hear the difference in things as the first full moon in Beacon Hills since he’d been back made its appearance through the clouds.

Chris stopped his attack on him as he noticed the dazed out look to him, his eyes moving heavenwards he too noticed what had drawn both the demons and the warlock's attention away from the training session.

Fas picked himself up from where he had been sat and rubbed himself alongside Stiles’ side, Stiles felt the familiar pinprick of pain but he paid no mind to the long shape slithering down from his shirt through his pants leg until the black length pooled beside his foot and the cat. Chris watched transfixed as the two demons morphed from their animal forms into a twisted and blackened cloud.

They floated in the air muddled together but somehow Chris could identify the difference between the two of them. Stiles was still dazed out, his eyes glazed over and his hands trembling by his sides. Chris dragged his attention away from the demons to peer up at Stiles and try to decipher what was going on, he was shocked to find the entirety of Stiles right eye was glowing gold almost as if liquid gold pooled inside. His fingers trembled and shot with sparks of gold as his lips moved in silent prayer.

Stiles could feel danger in the air, something was different in Beacon Hills, different from all those other times there had been a full moon in a town full of werewolves. Someone wasn’t in control, someone was fighting through their first full moon and there was a scent of foretold death in the air. Wisps of magic that connected the supernatural to the earth and to Stiles pointed him in the direction of the school and somewhere deeper into the woods nearing another couple of miles. In both areas were people Stiles new, in both places were people he knew in danger. He had the choice to help, he wanted to help, but he didn’t want to get involved, but if they didn’t get involved there was a possibility of more death.

Making up his mind Stiles found himself slipping out of the trance that he had fallen into by accident, he stumbled back upon returning to the wooded clearing he and Chris had been occupying. His demon companions were slowly returning to their animal forms, unnatural eyes trained on him.

Chris placed his hand on his shoulder, eyebrows drew into a concerned look.

“I’m okay.” Stiles rasped suddenly incredibly thirsty but he cleared his throat and got on with it anyway.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, but people are going to die, and we can stop it or at least I think we can.”

Chris blinked at him, unsure of how to take that answer. It was clear Stiles didn’t know how to take that answer either, they would have to focus some time on his magic tomorrow night, it was clear it had a control over him that he needed to fix, he needed to have control over his magic rather than his magic having control over him. Stiles was picking up his coat and bag, his bag of which he’d pulled a distinct mask out and had begun to strap it to his face with a sense of purpose that Chris hadn’t quite seen him wear before. It suited him.

“Where are we going?”

“There are two options, one is the school and one is about six miles in that direction.”

Fas hissed and butted his head in the direction of the school. Stiles frowned down at the cat.

“What Fas?”

_‘You should go to the school, Warlock.’_

Chris frowned, the screeching sound the cat made seemed to be understood by Stiles but he had no clue what they were discussing when it was a one-way conversation.

“Fas says I need to go to the school, are you okay going to the other place?”

Chris nodded, he couldn’t really argue against a demon not when they had reacted to the full moon almost as soon as Stiles did. If they were danger detectors he couldn’t deny them their trust in their instincts.

Baalmo slid over to them about to say her piece and once again Chris had no clue what her screeching entailed but Stiles explained anyway.

“Baalmo wants to go with you, Fas and me to the school, you and Baalmo in that direction, she can find the origins of the danger.”

Chris nodded, “fine, just be careful, okay Stiles?”

He jerked his head in a quick nod acknowledging the words of the older man. His eyes were the only things present behind that lion mask of his that he could see. Mask on he was who the Mexicans called Manticore, and he could see the reason they trusted him, those eyes portrayed nothing but selflessness and an instinct to help no matter how much they did not want to be there. Stiles only wanted to do the right thing despite not wanting to be there, that much was honourable to Chris and he would do anything he could to make sure that ideal did not change for Stiles, it was a good plan and would be taken advantage of, but not by Chris.

He only hoped they both got to their respective dangers in enough time for people not to die, he didn't know what that would do to Stiles if he predicted it then couldn't stop it. It would hurt Chris that was for certain and if it hurt him he didn't want to think about what it would do to Stiles. 


	21. Chapter 21

Chris trekked through the woods, his knives holstered against his thigh and his crossbow held in both hands ready for anything. Baalmo slithered through the leaves and twigs of the ground, she was silent for the most part only hissing when they needed to change direction or to try her best at warning him about something. It was certainly hard to have an intellectual conversation when the only one who could translate what she was saying was out there about to risk his neck for someone else.

He was fearful of the demon but he trusted her if Stiles did. He may have felt a little less worried if he had been accompanied by the cat but he couldn’t fight with their instincts, he was lucky enough to have one demon beside him, he couldn’t be annoyed that he didn’t happen to get the one he trusted a little bit more.

Life and sounds increased as they got closer and closer to the miles that Stiles suggested would be the origin of one of the dangers he sensed. He shifted his crossbow in his arms and got ready for whatever he would be finding out there.

He didn’t flinch when the demon beside him flattened and became smoke in an instant but he did react when he watched her form words in the sky ahead of him, his eyes widened and he picked up the pace.

 **‘Hurry!** ’

* * *

 

Stiles kicked a rock and pulled his jacket closer around his frame, Fas was jumping from twig to twig excitably and Stiles felt incredibly annoyed at the cat for pretending that all this danger was normal to him.

"Stop acting like this is your dream situation, Fas."

The cat perked his ears up at him then snarled before darting away.

_‘Calm yourself, Warlock, I made sure your friend went to save your old pack. You should be thanking me.’_

"Yeah I’m glad, Fas, but you could maybe look a little bit less excited."

The cat darted along ahead of him his gut leading him in the exact direction as the cat was headed. At least they were one and the same, Stiles didn’t find himself looking forward to any conversation that meant arguing with Fas and the demons strong personality.

He was less at ease with the situation than he might have been that morning, knowing he was remarkably useless at most everything that could keep him alive in situations was not something that made him feel confident in his abilities. They hadn’t even begun to look at his magic as an asset and Stiles really didn’t look forward to Chris berating him on that, he was going to die and there was just a scary grinning cat standing between him and imminent death.

They reappeared from the woods lit up under the street lamps, Fas’ back arching menacingly as the both of them were hit with sudden bursts of danger fuelled energy. It prickled at Stiles’ skin and burned at his insides. Something was truly happening in the town and his magic was reacting just as aggressively, he could feel it sparking from his fingertips as he fought to keep it locked up in those cages he’d built for himself for situations like this.

Fas mewled and swiped at his leg, he glared down at the cat but it had done what it had intended to and he’d snapped out of his broken gaze to follow him more urgently towards where things were definitely about to go to shit.

* * *

 

Chris flinched again as Baalmo hit the wooded floor beside him, black snake form once again the only thing he could keep his eyes on. The snake hissed at him but began to slither away from him and towards where she had clearly sensed something was about to go down like it was her job. It was either that or she was just as worried as he was. That or she sensed his worry and just wanted to do good by Stiles by doing good by him. Either way, he appreciated it, he wasn’t sure he would have made it through these twists and turns to make it to where he could see lights, hear music and even make out that what they were approaching might well have been a party.

Party’s were the bane of every parent's existence, underage drinking, noise complaints and the overall worry of having the cops called to your house because you couldn’t control your kid. Luckily he’d never had that issue with Allison, and he knew she was attending parties but she never came home wasted, no he had to deal with the supernatural rebellion rather than the alcoholic rebellion. He would have taken alcohol over werewolves any day.

He quickened his pace as he remembered Baalmo’s over-exaggerated insistence that he hurries. He hefted the crossbow more comfortably in his arms, his ammo was non-lethal though he’d hoped to know more about what he was getting himself into he knew that non-lethal was the way to go when not completely sure of the situation. It rubbed him the wrong way but he couldn’t possibly have a conversation with the demon even if she was spelling everything out to him in a more arbitrary version of hangman with a smoke machine. If this was the best they could do they could surely deal with the consequences of it.

He worried more for Stiles situation than this unknowns that he may have been walking into, knowing that Stiles was more or less completely unprepared was worrying at best and it was strange to know that he trusted the boy to come out of whatever this was bound to be safe. He had the scary demon, that had to count for something.

“-It’s your fault, its all your fault!”

The yelling was disjointed and angry, with bouts of spitting followed by the sounds of someone struggling against it.

Baalmo reared back her red eyes menacing and fearful. The snake was as much a person as the cat and Stiles were and Chris was finally beginning to understand the differences in her mannerisms, enough to begin to somewhat understand the snake. Whatever they had been coming to stop was ahead, it may have been to do with the yelling but yet that was just the first problem he would face.

* * *

 

Stiles huffed, he was not ready for the world if he couldn’t run from one stretch of Beacon Hills to the other without dying inside. Fas was watching him from ahead again, his eyes were unamused and once again Stiles felt like a disappointment to the demon, he was sure Fas was reconsidering this whole Stiles will be the Warlock that will save the world ideal. Maybe he was hoping they would come across someone better in their movements across America.

He heaved in a couple more breaths before he motioned for Fas to get moving again, his skin was on fire and it really did tingle, whatever bad was going on out there was happening now and it felt like he would not get there on time. He was in trouble. His friends were in trouble.

Chills ran through him as they reached the high school, the hairs on his arms were stood on edge and he felt the magic inside him begin to beat at the cage he’d created for it. He drew his hands into fists, he couldn’t have it breaking out of him with no reason, that was the whole reason he’d designed the cage for it, he needed the control.

Fas was flickering in and out of his cat form and the cloud of smoke image he may have prefered at a different time. His eyes were strained and he panted.

“What’s happening, Fas?”

_‘It is too much, I cannot control it.’_

“Whatever you need to do, Fas.”

_‘Get inside, Warlock, I will be right behind you.’_

Stiles faltered looking in at the big blue doors that entered into the school he hadn’t been in since the Nogitsune, he wouldn’t even have back up with the way Fas was reacting to whatever was inside. It was up to him, him and his magic.

He took a deep breath, pushed past the instincts of a weak human that told him to turn back and run away, he was a different person now, he had to be a different person now. He jogged forwards, pushed open the door and entered the school.

* * *

 

Chris shot his crossbow, the non-lethal rounds a blessing as he spotted a familiar face getting swiped at by an unknown beta.

The beta fell to the floor ears held by hands as the sound that was only heard by werewolves and the bright lights pelted at his senses. Scott was affected only lightly but his face was more than shocked when he recognised Chris in the trees.

Baalmo’s eyes flared red as she turned away from the scene, she bypassed Scott, bypassed the beta and continued towards the sounds of the party. Chris didn’t have time to assess the demons moods as he focused on the young alpha.

“How did you know?”

Chris’ eyes flickered to the black snake that was quickly disappearing into the shadows, that one would be tough to explain that was a certainty.

“I got your text. There’s a clearing to the north of here, if you can corral him there it will be easier.”

“What are you going to do?”

“He’s your beta, the question is what are you going to do?”

“He won’t listen to me.”

Chris was about to pull out the comforting older man act that he’d been planning on using on Stiles when he’d tried to give up but the kid hadn’t even hit that point in their training, he seemed to want to be prepared as much as Chris wanted him to be.

There was a scream in the distance that had words falling from the forefront of his mind, and his focus was sent to the dangers they’d been sent there for, the dangers that the snake had told him to hurry to solve, so this may have not been it, saving Scott was not why he was here. He was increasingly more worried for Stiles as he thought that their dangers may have been equal I urgency and if his urgent danger was saving a young alpha from a raging beta it meant he didn’t have to worry about Stiles. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

“That was Liam?”

Chris frowned, but then it dawned on him, he’d prepared for this, the trap in the woods for the beta. His fears for the young Warlock dwindled, but why then did Baalmo bypass this, why did she continue towards the sounds of the party. He turned to Scott, pressing something into his palm and then motioned towards the trap.

“He’s your beta, try to speak to him not how you were spoken to but in the way you think will most get through to him. He will listen to you if you try. Go.”

Scott nodded before running off towards where his beta - Liam - was most likely trapped in that clearing he’d previously mentioned.

He frowned towards the direction Baalmo had disappeared before he let the crossbow dangle by his side and continued towards where the demon had gone.

* * *

 

Stiles slammed through the doors and into the corridor, as a man slammed into his dad and Derek, wielding icepicks like they were the most common weapon of choice to go against a werewolf and a town sheriff.

He felt the magic bubble up inside of him as his dad was thrown against the lockers and Derek tried to dodge the swipe of the weapons at him.

He threw his hand out, the air rippled past him blowing his hair out of his eyes. It moved down the corridor, blowing Derek and icepick man away from one another and more importantly away from his dad.

He stalked forwards momentarily before kicking the weapons away from him, his whole being thrumming with the energy that he was sure was being seen through the medium of his broken right eye.

His dad leapt forwards to arrest the man as Derek stared up from the ground at the person he’d recognised as Stiles in those woods, lion mask be damned. He’d never once thought that this could have been a possibility, Stiles was always the hyperactive human to him, the one who’d always tried to help.

There was a moment where Stiles was catching his breath that he failed to notice what was coming. Fas reared up behind him, the demon at his fullest, yellow eyes fierce in his cloud of swirling black. Derek yelped back and scrambled back, his dad looked on with wide scared eyes and the man he’d been arresting only narrowed his eyes.

The claws that hit him felt like an intense moment of deja vu that he’d wished never to feel again, he hit the floor, rolling over just in time to watch cat Fas hit the wall, eyes rolling closed for the first time since that church.

The man bypassed Stiles to slash at the man his dad had been trying to arrest, his dad had been pulled aside by Derek before Peter and his blue wolf eyes tore into him with no remorse. Stiles crawled across the floor to scoop Fas into his arms and lean wholly against the cool metal of the lockers. His blood was leaking to the floor beside him, the pain was tolerable not like what had happened last time, this time he could deal with it without the hospital. He did not need them knowing he was back.

Peter tore into him until he seemed satisfied, clawed hand pulling at something inside of him, Stiles fought the urge to gag. Peter was holding onto his spine like it was a trophy. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through Fas’ fur, he hated Beacon Hills.

He kept his eyes closed until he flinched when someone touched his arm. His dad was hovering over him phone out most likely to call an ambulance. He shook his head, “no hospital.”

“Come on, Stiles, you’re bleeding.”

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want them to know I’m here, call Chris or Deaton. I’m not going back to a hospital.”

Noah pulled at his lip with his teeth and looked across to Derek, the man looked just as worried about Stiles as his dad did. Stiles didn’t need to worry, he needed someone to step up, stitch up his back and let him find out if Chris and Baalmo were okay out there.

* * *

 

Chris found Baalmo outside of a house beside a headless body, the head a few rolls down from where the body had fallen. He squatted down beside it, the stump had been cauterised, whatever had happened to him the weapon had been warmed to the point of boiling. It was a professional job and more so was Chris fearing for Stiles.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out stepping away from the body.

‘Sheriff Stilinski’

He frowned and answered pressing the phone to his ear, “I was just going to call you, Sheriff, there’s a body here.”

“Who is it?”

Chris blinked at Stiles’ panicked voice on the other line.

“Some man, Stiles, his head’s been cut off of his body, its a professionals work here.”

“Yeah someone with icepicks tried to kill Derek and my dad. They’re okay.”

“That’s good. I’ll meet you back at your dads, a real debrief okay?”

“Sounds good. My dad said he’d meet you at the scene of the body. Can you stitch up a wound?”

“Yeah, Stiles, why?”

“I got hit, I just - I don’t want to go back to another hospital.”

“Okay, I’ll be back soon, debrief okay? Keep yourself awake, kid.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

Stiles yawned into the phone but someone by him seemed to be trying to keep him awake. Chris was hopeful, he didn't want to think of Stiles hurt, the kid had clearly already been through enough pain in one week not to have it added to just because Chris had wanted a reason to come back to Beacon Hills. He would not have that on his conscience, it was another reason why he wanted Stiles to be able to protect himself, if he was leaving him alone he would not leave him defenceless.


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles sat with his head resting against the wooden table at his kitchen, a glass of scotch was sat untouched by his head. His dad had poured the amber liquid as an apology for what had happened to him but Stiles could only associate his mother's death and his father's alcoholism to that glass and he’d been adamantly avoiding it. Even if he was sure that the burn of it would distract him from the needle Chris was using to sew up the slash in his back.

“Talk to me, Stiles, I can’t have you passing out on me.”

“What do you want to talk about, Chris?”

“What happened at the school?”

Stiles sighed and lifted his head up to rest it against his arms, he could see his dad and Derek talking animatedly together even if he couldn’t hear them. He didn’t really want to hear what they were saying, he feared it was about him, neither his dad nor Derek knew about the magic and he hated that they’d both had to find out that way. That was not what he had wanted when he’d agreed to come back, he hadn’t wanted to get caught up in the danger, he hadn’t wanted to get hurt by another person he might have thought he’d want to come back to. No one wanted him in Beacon Hills, he was just a weak human who was now just another useless supernatural in a town full of useless supernaturals.

“Stiles?”

He snapped out of his spiralling thoughts to remind himself he was supposed to be one half of a conversation with the man who was doing him the favour of stitching him up.

“Sorry. Fas was having a meltdown outside so I went in without him, I found the dude with the icepicks attacking dad and Derek. I used magic to send him away from them, then Fas came and tried to stop Peter from getting to me, he slashed my back and hurt Fas. He then cut up the icepick guy before he left. He took out the guys spine, Chris, why would he do that?”

“Peter’s unhinged Stiles, there’s nothing new about that.”

Stiles nodded and sniffled. There was a tug on his back and then the telltale sound of some scissors before Chris sighed and stepped back, “okay, Stiles you’re good to go, be careful with them when you wash and no physical exercise for 24 hours. That means you’re free from training tonight.”

Stiles smiled and thanked him, pulling his t-shirt back on stiffly, Chris assisting with an apologetic smile.

“So what happened with Baalmo?”

Chris nodded settling down with a wet washcloth as he wiped Stiles’ blood off of him.

“She’s a bit cryptic when you can’t speak to her, that’s for sure. But we found Scott and his newly turned beta fighting in the forest first. I thought that was the danger the demons warned us of but it wasn’t. Because I was helping Scott I failed to stop that man from being beheaded.”

Stiles shook his head, “I need to do damage control if Scott has turned a new wolf. The Calavera’s made him promise not to turn anyone if they wanted out of the prison Araya had them confined to. I brokered the deal, she wouldn’t have even let them go if I hadn’t been there. But they don’t know that was me so I will have to broker a new deal on their behalf. Araya can be talked down, I spent four days there and at least I learnt that. It will probably include a new favour but I can do that.”

Chris frowned and crossed his arms, “if Scott broke a deal with someone like the Calavera’s, you should let him do his own damage control.”

Stiles nodded, if not unsure about letting Araya loose on the young alpha.

‘Let him burn, Warlock.’

Stiles choked on his breath as he turned to see Fas’ eyes lingering heavily on his own. Chris frowned and looked to where the cat was curled up on the table. Fas was curled around Baalmo, the red-eyed demon still seemed to be sleeping.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing good.” Stiles chuckled, burying his face behind his hand to hide the smile that had graced his face.

Fas snorted before curling back around Baalmo. A sick smile present on the demons face.

“Fas doesn’t like the pack here?”

“Something like that. I don’t trust them, I think he picks up his cues from me.”

Chris motioned to the right side of his face. Stiles sighed.

“Yeah, it's just nice to have those two unequivocally on my side of things and it's mostly because they knew none of you before this. I had no qualms sharing what happened to me with the demons and some people in Mexico because they would have no other commitments trying to explain to me what’s right about the situation and they wouldn’t have to fight with themselves over the possibility of two different stories. I couldn’t put people through that here.”

Chris nodded, his head turning to where he was certain the sheriff and Derek were listening in with all the intention and possibility of finding out who hurt Stiles enough to send him running from Beacon Hills like there was no other option.

“It was someone here.”

Stiles looked at him pointedly and nodded, the sigh that accompanied his next words set the tone for their worry, “it’s always someone here.”

Chris let out a slow breath, it was hard to think that all of his worries stemmed from someone in this town, and it was clearly someone they all knew, someone they would have an issue with knowing that they could do that to Stiles. Stiles the kid who only wanted to help.

They were interrupted from their heavy silence when the Sheriff's phone rang, he apologised and answered the phone.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the station,” he hung up and looked around at the three of them, “that was Scott, he has something to show me. I’ve got to go.”

He faltered as he looked at Stiles before he waved his dad off, “I’ll be fine, the suns coming back up so I’ll be going to sleep. Go to work, dad.”

He nodded, waved away at the others before he grabbed his car keys and exited the house with all the purpose that the Sheriff should have had. Stiles looked forlornly up the stairs, he really did just want to go to sleep with all this having happened in the night he was ultimately exhausted once more.

Chris turned to Derek, “I was hoping you’d let me into your vault, I want to see what Kate was doing here, why she attacked you. Don’t worry Stiles, we’ll come to get you if anything comes of it. You’ll need to sleep off that injury.”

Stiles smiled, sleep really was pulling at him now. He was glad for Chris still pursuing the Kate business even as he just wanted to be gone. If Chris could find out where she had headed after the school, he could get going and then Chris could stay put. It would work out well for the both of them and he was very thankful that it seemed Chris had at least put some thought into that for them both.

Derek nodded his acceptance of the plan and even before the two men were out of his house, Stiles was sweeping the two demons into his arms and carrying them up the stairs to where his bed was calling to him.

Fas curled up at the foot of his bed, protectively around Baalmo but he didn’t seem to relax this time, his eyes were trained at the doorway, where they had just come from.

“Fas, could you teach me some protection spells, I don’t want to leave home this time without helping them some. Then at least they maybe won’t need my help as much as if I didn’t.”

‘Sleep, Warlock, when you wake I will show you.’

“Thank you, Fas.” He yawned into his hand and crawled under the covers on his bed. 

* * *

 

The afternoon that came when he woke up was more tiring than when he’d gone to sleep. Fas was like the army general from hell, his barking instructions of how his fingers should move were intense and felt like riddles flowing from his tongue. Baalmo watched amused from his desk not once stopping to chip in her support. He figured then that Baalmo might have been much younger than Fas, the amount Fas knew and the way he so actively tried to protect her. It was hard not to assume but he tried not to, they trusted one another he should not be trying to guess where they had come from before this.

The protection spells were like nothing Stiles had studied in those books Araya had gifted him. They were supposed to stop any person that had bad intentions from entering a place, and upon his insistence that there were a few placed he needed to protect Fas had insisted upon teaching him the much harder version of the spell that would mean he didn’t need to alter each one of his spells for the next place. This was one that would work on everything and everywhere.

The stitches in his back pulled when he moved his hands too hard, it was supposed to be an effortless procedure and yet he felt it. He was trying too hard to get it right and it was only causing him both emotional and physical pain. The frustration tore at him just as his physical movements tore at his stitches.

Fas was patient with him and Baalmo was just amused. They clearly had never been magical mentors for any being before let alone a horny teenager with a short attention span. Stiles just wanted to crash back into bed and make them forget he’d ever had this brilliant idea in the first place.

The two of them were much alike Chris in their attempts to teach him their ways, they were adamant and unyielding, he couldn’t get away with pretending that he was too tired to continue. It was his job to become knowledgeable in everything he had at his disposal, he had to be the best and he couldn’t get away with faking out. He had a destiny and they would not let him progress like this if he was going to properly fulfil that destiny.

It took him nearing three hours to perfectly correct and perform the tutting and hand movements with the accuracy that sent a pulse of golden energy flowing from him and wrapping wholly around the house and the items within it. His dad's house was a protected place, it didn’t need the mountain ash, anyone who held bad intentions against his father wouldn’t be able to even step onto the property and that’s exactly what Stiles had wished to leave behind. If he was going to leave and hopefully for good this time he’d need to at least make sure that his dad would be completely fine without him.

Fas nodded his approval at the situation before his body became wisps of smoke and he returned back to the mark on Stiles’ skin. He didn’t think anything could be better than that, he for sure didn’t need Fas to comment on his only working attempt, he just wanted to revel in the fact that it had been easier to learn one spell than the entirety of the training session with Chris.

He looked down to Baalmo who made no movement to become one with his skin once more and he couldn’t bring it in himself to care. He’d take both of them, or one of them, over neither and forcing himself to remember that his only two real forever companions were two demons that now had no choice but to stay with them because they had pledged to him. It was hard to think that they could be disappointed in him but couldn’t just abandon him like the rest because they were stuck with him. If he wasn’t their great Warlock like they had thought he was. He hated to think like that but he could never stop his thoughts going on their great depressive spiral like he had nothing better to think about.

He’s warded his dad's house, his next few would include the sheriff’s station, Derek’s loft and Deaton’s office. A few months ago he might have included a few other places but he couldn’t bring himself to go to their houses if they spotted him he might as well die on the spot. He liked Derek, and he liked Chris and if they were both staying here they would both be spending some time at Derek’s, Deaton’s and the Sheriff’s station. Though the last one was mostly for his dad too, he wanted to help as much as he possibly could while not being in the same state or even country as them (he really had no clue how far he would go in his pursuit of a purpose, and also knowledge).

Giving it some thought he would need Derek and Chris to be with him if he was going to do the next few places, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to run into anyone else, especially when he was certain his dad had been called to the station to deal with something supernatural related. He got a certain look on his face when it was supernaturally related like he wished he’d never found out in the first place, like all this both made his job harder as well as easier.

Stiles couldn’t fault his dad for not wanting to learn about the supernatural but he also figured that his dad might have died sooner had he not learnt and Stiles was not willing to let that happen, not if he would have been able to prevent it.

He picked up his phone, messed it in his hand for a minute before he called Chris, he knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to pick up unless he was involved in something serious, but he also knew that Derek hardly ever picked up the phone and he didn’t need that annoyance.

Ringing it he pressed it to his ear and allowed for Baalmo to slither up to his shoulder by winding herself around his arm slowly. If this had been any other time, letting a snake wind itself around him would have been the start of something worrying, warning bells may have sounded, like he was approaching imminent death territory.

Chris picked up on the third ring.

“What is it, Stiles?”

“How is it in the vault, find anything?”

“Just what Kate came to Beacon Hills for, I can bring it back to the house.”

“I was hoping you could come with me to a few places, I have some things I want to get done before I plan on leaving again. I just don’t want to run into anyone.”

“Do you have a time limit, Derek and I can be back at the house in an hour?”

“That’s fine, I just hoped to get it done tonight so we can get back to training tomorrow.”

“Okay, kid, see you in an hour.”

“Bye.” 

* * *

 

Stiles met them by the door when Chris pulled up in his rental car outside of Stiles’ house. Derek was seated in the passenger side as Stiles climbed into the back. Baalmo had slithered back to her position on his ribs, bored in the wake of waiting an hour for the next set of happenings. To be fair if Stiles could pass time like it was the blink of an eye, he probably would too. The demons had the right frame of mind, ever-present but also not caring, he envied that.

Chris passed over the object that Kate had manipulated her way into the vault for, even if she had left for the cheap plastic china made object that was created to resemble a powerful relic. Stiles thanked him as he looked over it and told him to head to Deaton’s.

He could feel the power thrumming off of the circular disk, the triskelion carved onto it was a strict reminder of the Hale family as a powerful familial pack, they’d clearly used it for many years. The power imbued in the disk had clearly been created because of the significance the family had placed in it, over the actual power it could have had if it really was a relic.

“What was this used for?”

Derek looked over his shoulder to answer his question, “my mom used it to teach me control.”

Stiles nodded but kept his eyes on the disk. His magic was probing at the power that he could see tendrils linking to Derek, substantiating his comment. He could feel that it meant a lot to him, even if it was just a useless piece of plastic to other people. No wonder they had kept it stored in their vault, it meant something to them, the power was just their feelings towards the object contained in one place. He doubted that anyone but him could have identified that, it was maybe possible that Kate was aware but he also highly doubted she hadn’t had a clue what she was doing when she opened that rift that Fas and Baalmo had come through.

“So she wanted it to learn control, what is she?”

“Not human,” Stiles looked up at Derek for the first time, his face showing no cracks in that stoic facade he preferred over normal human emotion, “when Derek ‘killed’ her, his claws would have gotten deep enough to potentially turn her. She isn’t a werewolf, but we don’t quite know what she is yet.”

Stiles nodded, humming over the information he’d just learnt, he couldn’t really give them any other answers just yet, but it was clear that she’d come to Beacon Hills to get some semblance of security over her new truth and really the only people she could take hints off were the only supernaturals she knew intimately - the Hales. Intimately because she had pretty much predator stalked Derek Hale when she was too old for him and he was just old enough to know better but still naive enough that he didn’t care. She’d used him and it was clear to Stiles behind Derek’s eyes that he was still hurt by it. It shook something inside of him to know the psycho wasn’t dead and they still had to deal with her - that Derek still had to deal with her, he just couldn’t get away from the bitch, could he?

“There’s power imbued in this disk, as much as its just a tool to teach control it could also be used for other witchy business, of course, I’m not fully knowledgeable on all this but the bits I have read people use relics like this for summonings or help from the dead. I don’t know how to perform anything like that though, and I doubt that Kate had intended any of that without reading a long dead language that even hurts me to read.”

Chris locked eyes with Stiles in the rearview mirror of the car, his eyebrows raised in way of showing both interest and intrigue. They clearly sometimes forgot that he’d done some work at figuring out what he was while at the Calavera’s, it was hard of course but he did remember it. Much like he remembered the tuts Fas had taught him before he had retired back to the marks on his skin.

The car journey to Deaton’s was silent after their brief discussion of the disk that Kate had been after from the Hale vault. Derek had told him that no one was inside, Stiles had let out a relieved breath at that before he clambered out of the back and just advised them to stay in the car. The spell took at most ten minutes if he got it wrong the first time and that was always a possibility, he also really just didn’t want them to see him fumble with the spell.

He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath before he opened them again and then began to move his hands with the well-practised ease of the three hours of training he’d only done an hour before. It would have been worse if he didn’t remember, he knew Fas was watching him even from the mark on his skin. He couldn’t let his magical cat mentor down, not this early in the mentorship.

The golden pulse that rattled through the car and sent goosebumps rolling across the skin of his friends in the car had them remembering that Stiles was definitely not the same kid that the Nogitsune had taken advantage of the previous summer. His instincts were heightened and his skill was unparalleled, it made them wonder just how powerful he would become with real lessons and more knowledge, it also scared them. If something just as dangerous as the Nogitsune was to take over him now, there would be untold horrors, it was something they both didn’t want to think about but also couldn’t stop thinking about.

When he climbed back in the car, he was only slightly out of breath and the gold in his right eye was only just fading back to his normal whiskey brown irises.

“What was that?” Chris asked, turning around from the front seat to look at him properly, those eyes inquisitive and commanding, he didn’t want to think he couldn’t trust Stiles but this hadn’t been what he’d expected when the young warlock had asked them to accompany him to first Deaton’s then at least two other places.

“Protection spell, I wanted to make sure no harm could come to the people I care about even if I’m not in town. Fas taught me earlier, took ages but dad’s house is warded and now so is Deaton’s. Anyone who has any bad intentions for people who may be inside cannot enter. I wanted to do the Sheriff’s station and potentially your loft too Derek.”

The two older men blinked at him in the back. His eyes had faded back to their original colours now and the only off thing about his appearance was those three ghastly white scars that marred his face.

Chris broke the silence by clearing his throat and nodding, “sounds like a plan, so it seems you’re taking to magic easier than the weapons and physical combat training. At least we know you won’t die as soon as you step outside of Beacon Hills.”

Stiles laughed and grinned, he was gladdened to know they had no objections to his use of magic in a town that was so ignorant to what was going on most of the time. Chris started the car muttering about the directions to Derek’s loft while mentioning something about calling the Sheriff to make sure no one they didn’t want to run into would be there. Stiles knew they liked him, he knew they cared, but he couldn’t stop his heart aching as he watched Derek’s fingers locate the Sheriff’s contact on his phone and motioned to call him while also directing the hunter to his home.

Derek's loft was a lot quicker to ward than Deaton's office had taken, the quietness of the street compared to the noises of the forest were enough that his mind went completely blank and he fell into an easier glide through of the movements that took him to whiz through the spell with an ease and finesse he didn't even think he would ever be able to possess. 

Apparently, there was a situation at the Sheriff's station that had Lydia Martin and Malia Tate inside with Stiles' dad and a number of deputies. Stiles had already gathered that the station would be the hardest to ward but also the place that would need it most what with it being a sheriff's station, of course, that would be where all the trouble happened. He'd packed his mask for just this occasion, it would not be the best plan to stand masked up outside a place full of guns but he already felt on edge, and he just hoped that the mere presence of Chris Argent and Derek Hale with him might make them stop for a minute before they shot at him. A minute perhaps that would give them the opportunity to run before they got shot.

Chris shook his head at his serious lack of self-preservation but said nothing about it, Derek kept his arms crossed as he leaned back stoically against the rental car that Chris had hired so they wouldn't be recognised in Stiles' infamous blue jeep. 

His rushed tuts and nervous energy made the golden pulse a lot stronger than it probably should have been, it wobbled Stiles and sent the rental car skidding a few centimetres backwards causing Derek to stumble. His apologetic look didn’t make up for the small earthquake the people inside the station must have felt but he didn’t know how else to make up for it. Chris pulled him back to the car before they were found, his eyes watchful and worried as they made sure no one would have spotted what they had done. They would be sure to explain it to the Sheriff later but right now was not the time for it more like it was the time to run.

It was yet another reason that Chris feared for his life on his own, little was known about how he would fare out there on his lonesome, so much so Chris wondered whether a little bit of outside help would be much appreciated from the boy. He had a plan but it all rested heavily on other factors, he would only bring it up to the young warlock if it panned out, but right now they needed to go more than Chris needed to make sure he was forever safe. He had a plan, he would begin it when they got safe, right now they needed to go.

The rental car peeled out of the lot just as the door to the station slammed open and Lydia Martin stood confused in the doorway. Words remained unsaid and unknown in the back of her throat, something strong was here, something strong had shaken the station, something strong had run away for fear of being found out. She only knew she wanted to know more, more of this power that so clearly knew them more so than they knew it. It was familiar to her, newly familiar but she couldn’t place it, a riddle. Whatever it was, this riddle, they were in trouble because Lydia Martin was a boss at riddles.


	23. Chapter 23

Chris had sat Stiles down in the kitchen before he’d excused himself to call someone, a call that was clearly personal as he had moved even out of earshot of Derek. It was both worrying and comforting to know that the hunter still took into account the fact that just one of them had supernatural hearing even though it could have been said that Derek cared little about listening into Chris’ phone calls. However, Stiles wasn’t also certain that he knew Derek even well enough to say that Derek wouldn’t listen to Chris’ phone call.

It was a moment of pure unequivocal joy to think that his only worry at that moment was whether he knew Derek enough to accurately believe he wouldn’t listen in on Chris’ phone call whether he was in hearing distance or not.

The moment was brief and fleeting and was shattered when Stiles’ phone, which he had left face up in the middle of the kitchen table unwilling to be the one to call his dad, began to ring. Stiles shared his own worried look to Derek’s stoic face, he had to pick it up, he knew he did, it didn’t mean he didn’t want to though. It was his dad, of course, it was his dad. There was no way it wouldn’t have been his dad, that wasn’t even a possibility. Plus it said ‘dad’ on the caller ID, it was definitely his dad.

He picked up the phone and held it to his ear as he answered it. He knew Derek would have been able to hear his dad on the other line without going to the effort of putting it on speaker phone, that wasn’t something he had to worry about with werewolves. Right now though, he needed to worry about his dad.

“Stiles, there’s been a development with what’s going on. A list - a Deadpool - offering professional hitmen and hunters the chance to kill ranking supernaturals in Beacon Hills. Lydia found the first list last night and there’s been another one unlocked moments ago. You don’t think you’d be listed do you?”

Stiles paled his hand shaking as he took in the words his father had said, he was just thankful he’d gotten through his spell successfully, they wouldn’t be able to hurt them in the station and that was enough to sate at least some of his fears.

“I wouldn’t know dad, am I considered supernatural? And I’m newly so, would I count?”

Derek shrugged, he had as little answers as the rest of them did.

“Scott’s new beta is on the list Stiles, you’ve known you were different for longer than he’s been turned. Your name isn’t on any of these as of yet but I do not want it coming up, not while you’re here.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, he wasn’t planning on staying, his intentions were to go imminently. But he’d promised Chris at least two more training sessions before he took off. But two days could be enough for his name to crop up on a list, for him to suddenly become a target where he wasn’t before. He hated high school.

Stiles’ dad took his silence as a cue to continue, “just stay safe kid, and maybe stick to either Chris or Derek, we don’t want you getting in any more trouble now.”

Stiles chuffed and nodded, “okay, dad. Stay safe.”

“Love you, kid.” 

* * *

 

Chris walked back into the room, happy that his phone call had maybe gone in the direction he had hoped it would. Stiles and Derek were sat at the dining table a sombre look decorating their faces and their eyes were trained on the phone sat in the middle of the table.

“What’s happening?”

“Someone’s created a deadpool for all the supernatural creatures in the town. There are three lists, they’ve decoded two but dad doesn’t know whose names will be on the third one, he’s worried that maybe my name might be on it.”

Chris nodded, suddenly a lot less happy even if his phone call had gone well. It was hard to think that someone was painting a target on all of the supernaturals in Beacon Hills, they surely didn’t know who they all were but it was likely there was a whole lot.

“Let me guess, that’s what Scott and the pack have been up to?”

Stiles shrugged, he knew little about what was happening, he only wished he’d never come back, this was exactly the reason why Beacon Hills was cursed. Something bad was always happening here and it sucked.

His phone buzzed again and he flinched, though his hand was out to it and answering before he even had a chance to read the caller ID.

“Manticore, your alpha has turned another.”

Stiles seethed as the calm dangerous voice of Araya Calavera caressed his senses, he didn’t need this now. He hadn’t done anything that remotely resembled damage control after Scott had turned that beta. But he also hadn’t expected for her to contact him about the contract they had created back in Mexico.

“I’m aware, I was going to contact you but I figured you would find out in your own time.”

Derek’s eyes were trained harshly upon Stiles, this boy had a cordial relationship with a group of hunters that had once tortured him. More so they called him Manticore, he knew that name from somewhere.

“He broke our contract, we have no choice but to teach him a lesson.”

“Do what you must, I really can’t be bothered with any of this anymore.”

“He has done more to you, Manticore?”

Stiles’ breath hitched and he felt both men’s eyes train on him. Speaker phone was both a nightmare and a blessing, though more nightmare in these circumstances.

“Not as of yet, Araya, I was more referring to the curse that is this town.”

“It is as much magic as you are. I will call you again when we are in town, Manticore, I do not wish for you to interrupt us.”

“Depends on what you have planned, also depends when you come. I’m hoping to be gone very soon.”

“I wish you well in your endeavours, Manticore. Do not let this alpha change your plans.”

“Don't intend to, Araya, thank you.”

He pressed hang up and relaxed in the chair. He wasn’t certain he’d ever wanted them to know what had happened to him, he definitely didn’t want them to know by way of listening to a conversation he shared with a notoriously dangerous hunter from a Mexican family.

He was almost certain they had interpreted the barebones of what had gone down for the scars on his face with what was said, he only wished that if they were going to say something they would do so quickly.

“Stiles? Scott did this?”

Stiles swallowed and bit his lip, he looked up at Chris and pointedly ignored looking at Derek. He nodded his head slightly and flinched as Derek slammed a fist into the table sending his phone skittering off the edge and smashing to the floor.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought about it again, he couldn’t push all the fault onto Scott, sure the first hit to the back of his calf was all Scott but to some degree, the swipe across his face was as much his fault as it was Scott’s anger. He’d provoked him with words he’d known would hurt Scott, he’d betted on them hurting Scott. He’d known that if he couldn’t attack him physically back he could for sure hurt him mentally, and he had, so much so that he had gone for his right eye.

Chris squatted down in front of his chair, eyes hard but also worried. “What happened?”

Derek was shaking in the seat beside him, eyes flickering in and out of shades of blue and brown.

“It was a pack meeting, about how to get Derek out of Mexico. They’d already severed the pack bond in the time between Allison’s death and the meeting. They had their own grief to get through but they hadn’t felt it, and I had. My magic came through in that summer, but I didn’t want them to know about it for fear that would be the only reason they wanted me back in the pack. They dismissed all my ideas as is normal at the meeting so I made to leave. Scott tried ordering me about but he had no control over me. He lunged at my leg, and that would have been all of it, but I uh, I told him that Allison wouldn’t like who he’d become and he clawed at my eye. Next thing I remembered I was at the hospital and my dad was with me. It’s as much my fault, you can’t blame him for all of it.”

Chris shook his head, “none of that is your fault. You weren’t wrong, I don’t think Allison would like who Scott has become. Never mind that, he should never have attacked you, pack or not.”

Tears were streaming down his face, he hated that they knew, he didn’t want the pity but he could also feel his insides breaking. He wasn’t strong, he was still that weak human that they thought he was.

“You can’t speak to him about it. You have to promise me. I don’t care that this happened to me, they’re the ones who have to protect Beacon Hills and they need the both of you to help them do that.”

Derek placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder for the first time, his eyes permanently blue as he heaved out breaths through his nose trying to hide his fangs. He’d shifted knowing what had happened to Stiles, seventeen years old and had already been through nothing he should have.

“You keep saying them, who else was there Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head, he was ruining their reputations of people they knew, he would be the reason Beacon Hills fell apart, he would never forgive himself for that.

“No, no.”

Chris shared an equally worried look with Derek, the boy was falling apart right in front of them. His insistence to be strong before them shattered as soon as they had found out who carved into his face with seemingly little remorse.

“Stiles, you need to tell us, it isn’t good to keep it all inside of you.”

“But you’ll change the way you think of them, that can’t be because of me. No, I won’t let it.”

“Stiles, it will be because of them, because of what they did to you, not because you’re telling us the truth about it. You need to tell someone, us or your dad, you can’t keep it hidden away.”

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, he didn’t like this. He understood their logic but he didn’t like this.

Chris rubbed at his knee, trying to give him some comfort yet not knowing how to come about it with the near sobbing boy before them.

He hiccupped but nodded, he’d tell them but he wouldn’t open his eyes, he didn’t want to see the change in their eyes, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to forget it.

“Lydia, Kira and Malia. They were there, I don’t know if they saw what happened but I know one of them must have called an ambulance.”

Chris let out a pained breath, he’d hoped only one other would have been there, but they were all there. All the people this boy had thought were his friends had stood by and watched as he had been torn apart both physically and mentally. He was broken and he was not afraid to show it, he wore it on his skin only hiding when he was worried for them saying something to him. He didn’t hide it in front of them, he hadn’t hidden it from the new people he met, it was a part of him now, and now they knew who had done it.

Stiles had been right, knowing would change their perception of them. It was hard to think that the puppy dog personality Scott wore like a glove could hide such anger that would have him attacking someone he once called his best friend. Sure things Stiles had said had tweaked at the, before, he was not subtle and he didn’t have a filter, but nothing he’d ever said would have them even thinking about attacking him. It was hard to even think about someone else wanting to hurt him, his whole purpose was wanting to help and it hurt to think that Scott could do this to him.

If Scott could do that to Stiles, it worried Chris to think what he could do to someone he didn’t like. It was a scary thought, that Scott was so adamant on not killing someone had let his anger get so far away from himself that he had forever scarred this strong boy.

It hurt more to think that Stiles had clearly felt so alienated by them even before this incident that he’d not wanted to tell them that he had magic for fear that it would be the only reason they’d want him back in the pack like he offered no more to them than a new weapon. Chris willed himself never to think of Stiles like that, his magic didn’t define him, it was a part of him but that wasn’t all he was. He was loyal, he was self-sacrificing, he was strong, he was pained, he had magic but that wasn’t who he was. 

* * *

 

Derek had tried to leave to hurt Scott, the magic that had stopped him had him making angry eye contact with a powerful yet sad Stiles. Chris had watched through pained eyes the situation that unfolded, the situation that was held in a stalemate until Stiles’ dad had come through the door to see them.

Stiles had broken down all over again when he’d had to recount it next to his dad, Derek had given up trying to leave in favour of sinking down on the couch with his head in his hands.

None of them had thought that Scott would have ever had it in him and it worried them more than they might have had the stones to admit.

His dad had gone silent, silent crying, silent anger, silent worry. But he’d bundled his son up into his arms as they’d both sobbed, Stiles’ cries stabbed at Chris and Derek, this must have been the first time that he had even given significant thought to what had happened to him.

Everyone there except Stiles wanted to go hunt down that young alpha and question him. All Stiles wanted them to do was ignore that they’d ever found out, they all had jobs to protect the people in Beacon Hills, whether it be Sheriff, Werewolf or Hunter. They all needed to work with Scott and ignore that they knew this, they had to be objective if they were going to work with him. They needed him as much as he needed them and they needed to remember that. He would be more angry with himself if he had been the reason why more people died in Beacon Hills because these people who cared about him cared so much they were willing to let people die in favour of not helping Scott McCall.

It had taken too much time for them to come to the realisation that even in their pain they had to admit that Stiles was correct. Beacon Hills was never going to stop being dangerous and if they wanted to work inside of it they needed to be at least cordial with the young alpha.

Unfortunately, with Stiles’ logic, there was also the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be in Beacon Hills anymore, he didn’t want anyone to know he was there, and if they suddenly knew that Scott had done this to him, Scott would surely know that Stiles was still here.

It had been a hard promise to make. Derek had taken a good hour to control himself enough to agree to it, he’d help them with the supernatural business but he was not willing to ever pretend that Scott was the same kid he might have seen him as two months ago.

Chris had nodded his acceptance of the terms, he more so wanted to stick around in Beacon Hills after this just to make sure that Scott didn’t think he could get away with doing something like this ever again.

Noah had taken the longest to even concede and accept that he couldn’t just go out and arrest Scott because of what he’d done. It would be hard to get the charges to stick anyway but he also didn’t want for Stiles to be annoyed at him for breaking that promise. It meant too much to him to keep his son happy after all this just to do it anyway for himself and his hope to get justice for his son.

Stiles had slumped tired onto the couch beside Derek, his mind too exhausted to even note the way the werewolf shifted to make sure he was even protected while they were sat on the couch. It was hard to think that if he had been more awake he would have berated him, right now he was just thankful they were still with him even with all he’d just said. He hated himself for ruining their views of the others but he at least felt like a certain weight had been lifted from him.

Chris rested his head on his hands and breathed a deep sigh, he was more than happy now that he had made that phone call. He would not be letting anything happen to Stiles now, the kid didn’t deserve anything that was happening to him now or would ever happen to him later. They would get him out of Beacon Hills before anything else happened.

Right now, they had a silent but comforting silent environment to each get over what had just happened, and he had another eleven hours before he could even broach his plan. The time felt long but he didn’t doubt it would work, he would even let Stiles off of his training sessions for that night. They were all very emotionally drained for anything else. 

* * *

It was nearing four hours into the silence that the four of them had settled into, the TV was playing meaningless crap that none of them was paying any attention to, they were all too busy sorting out the emotional baggage in their heads so they wouldn't break out in anger upon seeing Scott McCall any time soon. 

Derek was thinking back to that phone call that had shifted his entire thoughts of who Stiles was, there was the fact that he seemed very friendly with the head of a very ruthless group of hunters from Mexico, but there was also that name that Araya had called him. Manticore. It was said with some reverence behind it and neither Chris nor Stiles had reacted to it so it was clear they had nicknamed him that in Mexico. But he recognised it, he couldn't quite say why he recognised it but he remembered some discussion around it. He couldn't pinpoint whether the chatter he only vaguely remembered was positive or whether it was negative, he also just couldn't even remember who he'd heard talking about it. Overall, he just didn't know anything other than he recognised it. 

"Manticore."

Stiles flinched as the words rolled quietly off of Derek's tongue, he probably wouldn't have even heard it if they hadn't been sat so close together on the couch. 

"What?"

Derek looked confused at him before he realised he must have mused some of his thoughts alive. 

"I recognise it, there's something familiar."

"It's what Araya called me in Mexico, I didn't want her to know my name and I thought el brujo was tacky."

Chris laughed, he nodded, 'the wizard' really was an odd name to call someone. Manticore was surely more ambiguous. 

"I understand that, but I shouldn't know that here. I would never have known that you were Manticore until Araya called you that over the phone."

Stiles furrowed his brow, puzzled, Derek was right. How would he have known? 

Noah took that at his moment to pitch in, "Lydia has been trying to figure out who Manticore is since they got back from Mexico, maybe you heard it from her?"

Derek shook his head, no it wasn't Lydia's mouth he heard those words from, but he still couldn't get there just yet. "How did she knew what you were called in Mexico?"

Stiles scratched the back of his head nervously, "Araya had locked them up in her compound, I begged favour off of her in exchange for their release. She probably called me Manticore when she released them."

Derek shook his head, "you know them, they'll never stop looking for you as Manticore."

Stiles shrugged, "she can if she wants, that's why I like it, they can know me as Manticore because I don't think they'd believe people if they said I was a warlock whereas Manticore just reminds you of power and I'm fine with that."

"So would you be Stiles or Manticore on the Deadpool?" Chris asked, his mind floating elsewhere for a moment before he remembered what he had just asked and immediately apologised. 

Stiles waved him off but shrugged, "maybe both? Only you, the Calaveras and the Morales pack in Mexico know me as both Manticore and Stiles."

Noah nodded, "I'll keep an eye out for that, the next time they bring me another list."

Stiles sat up, "who is on the list?"

Noah nodded and pulled his phone out, "The Walcott family that were killed when you came back into town, Lydia, Scott, the man that Chris found beheaded, Derek, Kira and three others. The second list, Malia, Scott's new beta Liam, Meredith Walker, and nine others. Apparently, Lydia is still trying to decode the third list, something banshee related I guess."

Stiles nodded, it was still amazing to know that there were people in this town that was so much better at hiding what they were if only the supernaturals that Stiles knew could take some lessons his life would be so much easier. 

"This list is another reason I can't wait to leave again."

Noah nodded, "It's another reason I'm fine with you leaving. That and to get you as far away from Scott McCall as we can."

The other three nodded but Chris still had something to say, "I've asked a friend to come down, you don't have to agree now, but I know that I won't be able to teach you all you need to survive before you throw yourself back in I wondered if you would accept his help."

Stiles pondered on it for a moment, this must have been the call he was making before his emotional laundry was aired for them all to witness. He nodded after a second, he would much prefer some company on this trip ahead of him, and if Chris trusted them he sure would too. He'd to some degree been looking forward to chilling with Chris for some time during his quest for knowledge, and he could see the benefit to having someone else watching his back other than just two demons that he could not converse with in public for fear of being locked up in yet another madhouse. 

Yeah, he'd try this.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the disappearance, went on holiday and now I'm supposed to be clearing out some of my stuff. Happy I finally got this next one up but won't know when I'll have the next one done. Sorry.

Chris had asked him to have his taxi drop him off at an out of the way motel just outside of Beacon Hills. It was a surprising request but he hadn’t had it in himself to argue against it. Chris had asked a favour and he owed his sanity to the older man so he was willing to do whatever it took to make up for that, even if he had just wanted to stay away for the longest time and potentially never even come back.

He frowned as he spotted a familiar jeep parked nearby but the scents were old, he recognised both Stiles and Chris, a small indicator that perhaps Stiles was the reason he’d been asked back to Beacon Hills. It was hard not to think about everything they had been through in the past, Stiles had been a strict focal point to the dangers that had struck in Beacon Hills, but he had also been the glue keeping everyone together. He was both the reason he had been willing to come back but also wanted to stay away, their quick banter was both them attacking one another but also accepting their differences. Scott was another reason he’d been adamantly advocating for staying away, the alpha had the power to make him stay even if he hadn’t wanted to, it was the reason he had just fled Beacon Hills without saying goodbye. He was weak to his alpha status.

He was here for Chris, Chris wanted someone safe and he couldn’t disagree with that. He’d even indicated that this person Chris wanted to protect wasn’t looking to stick around for very long. It was more of a relief, he’d very gladly help this person if they wanted it especially if he didn’t have to stick around Beacon Hills to do it.

He recognised an oncoming scent as a car pulled into the parking space beside what he guessed was Stiles’ jeep, the scents were an indication but he couldn’t claim it a fact, no cop would take a scent as evidence so he figured neither should he? Chris rolled down the window and smiled, he pulled himself out of the car and greeted him with a quick hug. They placed his bag in the back seat of the car before he climbed in himself and they began to peel out of the lot.

“Thanks for doing this.”

He nodded at Chris, of course, he would.

“Yeah, I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Isaac. You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

Isaac shook his head but chose to move away from that conversation. He knew from experience they would only get trapped in an emotionally traumatic loop.

“I’m here for Stiles?”

Chris shot a surprised look across at his friend but relaxed as he remembered the werewolf that he was. He had grown some in his abilities since his time away and even as it was sometimes hard to remember the boy he’d been they were both thankful at how much he’d grown in that time.

“Yeah, he doesn’t trust anyone here and I can’t be following him around all the time to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Sounds like Stiles. What happened to him? Why doesn’t he trust anyone?”

Chris shrugged and shook his head.

“I should let him tell you, but he was attacked here by someone we know. I only found out by accident recently. It’s not good though.”

Isaac shook his head, “I can’t imagine anyone hurting him here. But I suspect every one of us has changed a little since Allison.”

Chris looked sombre for a second but he couldn’t disagree with Isaac in his logical mindset.

“I didn’t tell him you were coming but he knows someone I trust is coming to help him, just don’t push him for information. A lot has gone on since you saw him last.”

Isaac frowned but shook his head, he knew he’d find out eventually but right now he was being driven through the town he’d nearly vowed to never come back to. Clearly, he had a bit of an issue keeping his word. At least he knew that Stiles didn’t intend to stick around Beacon Hills for any longer than they had to be there. Isaac wasn’t certain he could deal with bumping into any one of the former pack. He definitely couldn’t deal with it right now. In fact, he’d just spent over ten hours on a flight from France, he really didn’t want to do much more than he just wanted to go to sleep.

They pulled up just outside of Stiles’ house, all the lights were off and there was no sign of the Sheriff’s car. Chris felt a chill run through him and he really hoped it meant nothing sinister had happened while he’d been gone. He figured that Derek had other matters to attend to and the Sheriff probably had work. It wouldn’t be very good if Stiles wasn’t in though, they didn’t need him freaking out when there was someone random - Isaac - in his house that he hadn’t known was going to be there.

Isaac seemed to be on that train of thought himself as his eyes glowed yellow for a moment, his head tilted to the side before he righted himself, “someone is inside, they’re just sat in the living room.”

Chris shook away his more worrying thoughts as he climbed out of the car, and Issac picked up his duffel bag of stuff. He approached the door slowly and knocked before entering, there was the sound of movement, some hushing and then the lights blinked on. Stiles was stood in the main room with his hand on fire as he swiftly tried to blow the flames out.

“What were you doing?”

“Messing about?” Stiles’ answer was partnered with his wide eyes of being caught as he stared rigidly at Chris, his eyes trailed to where Isaac was closing the door and he somewhat relaxed.

“You’re hand was on fire. You call that messing about?”

Stiles hardened his eyes at Isaac but he didn’t look like he was about to conjure another fireball to lob at him so that made it a slight bit better.

“Yeah? You know Chris if you’d have said you were calling Isaac rather than your friend you would have made him sound a whole less ominous than we know he is.”

“I can be ominous, Stiles.”

“Really?”

Chris shook his head at the boys snarking efforts, at least they hadn’t tried to kill each other right away, that was always a positive for a new introduction in his book.

“Where’s everyone went, Stiles?”

Stiles drew his attention away from Isaac to look at Chris, “dad got called in for a prisoner transport with FBI agent McCall, and Derek got asked to show Malia where a pack who live in the woods are from. They wanted me to stay here and wait for you to get back, I’m thinking they want me out of trouble.”

“You are a trouble magnet.” Isaac snarked and Stiles pointedly ignored him. Chris shook his head, they were either bound to get along swimmingly or be at constant risk of attacking one another. They would find out in due time. This though, this was a start, a good one too. Snarking was better than arguing or attacking, Chris only hoped it foreshadowed good things in their future.

Chris moved swiftly as he felt his phone ring in his pocket and looked down to see The Sheriffs name appear, “it’s your dad.”

He pressed the speakerphone button and set it down on the table.

“Noah, I’m with Stiles.”

“Chris, I need you to…uh meet me at Deaton’s…those things your sister is controlling they attacked the convoy. They really hurt Scott’s dad, and uh Scott is here.”

“What’s happened?”

“They impaled Scott with a portion of it and Deaton asked for you. I didn’t know if maybe Stiles could track Kate with what was in him. Make it easier to get her out of town.”

Chris looked at both boys and nodded, “alright, I’ll be at Deaton’s as soon as I can.”

He hung up the phone and turned to the boys, Stiles held up his hands at the pointed look, “I will stay here, got it. Is he staying or are you taking him?”

“Isaac?”

“I just need to sleep.”

Stiles softened at that and pointed upstairs, “we don’t have a guest bedroom but mines the first door on the right.”

Isaac nodded and moved to leave, “but if you need me, come get me?”

“Yes, sir!” Stiles saluted mockingly before waving the both of them to go, “don’t worry, save him, I’ll be here trying not to burn anything down.”

“Stay safe.”

“You too.” 

* * *

 

Isaac had maybe gotten a good six hours sleep when he awoke to yelling and the distinct sound of Stiles swearing. His instincts had him at the top of the stairs before he even realised that his claws were out and his teeth were digging indents into his lower lip.

“I’m alive! Go back to bed!”

The words had Isaac stilling, had he moved loudly, how did Stiles know Isaac was worrying at the top of the stairs. The boy couldn’t read minds, could he?

Blinking his claws retracted as did his teeth, he rubbed a clawless hand through his curls and across his scalp. He was awake but his movements were still a quarter sluggish, he felt more alive than he had before those six hours of sleep. The light outside was fading, he figured late afternoon early evening but he was still a bit skewed from the flight.

He was shirtless too, and that wasn’t something he really wanted to share in the downstairs light. He didn’t need to be in solidarity with Stiles through the trauma that marred their skin, the silence was deafening when he’d first seen those claws that must have raked across Stiles’ face. His heart hurt to think that Chris had said someone they knew had done it, someone they knew had done the most intimate act of hurting Stiles, they’d physically had to look at his face to do what they did and Isaac hoped they suffered for it.

He wanted them to suffer for it. He wanted to be the person to make them suffer for it. Something in him knew that it would not make up for any time that he had not been there, but he felt like it would maybe be a start.

He wouldn’t ask. He knew from experience that you never wanted people to ask you about what you had gone through. He hoped that Stiles would tell him, that at some point Stiles would feel comfortable enough to tell him in his own time. If he could be that support, he would be. He clearly wasn’t the same person he knew before all of this, his hand had been on fire for god's sake and he seemed completely chilled out with the whole scenario. This would surely make for an interesting start of their potential partnership.

Isaac and Stiles running away from their past trauma to hopefully not run into any more.

He was stood at the top of the stairs for nearly a minute after Stiles had yelled up from where Isaac assumed was the kitchen. He blinked before moving back towards where he had been asleep in Stiles’ room. His bag was open next to the door and he pulled out a clean t-shirt that he just threw on, he’d slept in gym shorts as an alternative to his jeans and figured they wouldn’t be doing much more than sitting in the house so he moved from the room with just the t-shirt and the shorts, his feet bare.

He padded down the stairs where the scent of blood was fresh on the air but there was no agony corresponding to it, whatever had happened Stiles was more annoyed than he was in pain. At least that was something easy to fix, he had not learned how to first aid a human after he no longer was one, and Chris was always able to fix himself up before he might have needed Isaac’s assistance.

He rounded the corner to find Stiles wielding a knife like someone who’d never held one before, two fingers of his left hand were stuck in his mouth as he paced around the room annoyed at himself. Isaac looked at the knife in his right hand and felt vaguely sick at the red that newly decorated the silver metal.

“Do you need some help?”

Stiles yelped his fingers still in his mouth as he tried to hold the knife Isaac’s way in a manner Isaac figured was supposed to be threatening.

Stiles sighed and set the knife down on the side and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the blood started bubbling from the cut as he pointed at Isaac with them.

“Dude, we need to get you a bell.”

Isaac ignored him in favour of looking at the wound on his fingers.

“What were you doing?”

Stiles pursed his lips and avoided Isaacs' eyes, none of that helped him try to figure out what was going on.

“Stiles, let me help.”

“I was cutting a sandwich but I thought I heard something and the knife slipped over my fingers, I had to bin the sandwich because it was covered in my blood.”

Isaac pulled some of Stiles’ pain with an ease he’d practised over his time away, he rubbed his thumb across the cut on his fingers and flinched as the flesh moved considerably. He turned the tap on and pushed Stiles’ fingers under the steady stream even despite his mewling protests.

“Keep them under there, where are your plasters?”

“In the bathroom, under the sink.”

“Keep them there.”

Isaac only moved as soon as he’d gotten a nod of acceptance from Stiles that he would stay put.

He tore up the stairs back towards the bathroom, hands beneath the sink even before he could have a look at what he was trying to find, the big green first aid box was a godsend.

He found as many plasters as he could hold and a bottle of disinfectant that he decided on before he ran back down the stairs. He dumped his finds on the counter beside them and turned off the tap. He took another look over Stiles’ fingers and was glad to see that the blood wasn’t appearing as fast as it was before. He pressed a towel over them anyway, he just needed to stop the blood as much as possible.

Stiles watched him move silently before he found his voice again, “how do you know to do this?”

“Had to fix myself up a lot when I was younger.”

Stiles nodded remembering the shit situation Isaac had been trapped in before Derek had offered him the bite. It wasn’t something Isaac liked to remember, but for things like this, his memory helped.

He pulled the towel away and tossed it aside, he soaked another in the disinfectant, apologies on his breath as he pushed it over the wounds and held tight even as Stiles swore and tears pricked at his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Isaac nodded and pulled the towel away after thirty seconds of the burning sensation of the disinfectant. The plasters were next and he neatly wrapped two or three around each finger before he stepped back.

“I can make you that sandwich now if you want? You shouldn’t be anywhere near a knife for a bit, clearly, you can’t handle it.”

“I was making a sandwich for you. I’ve eaten.”

“Oh. Thanks. Can I?” He motioned to the fridge, Stiles shook his head and laughed.

“Go for it. I’m going to sit down.” 

* * *

 

The call had come in about two hours after Stiles sliced his fingers open with a knife, Isaac’d had his sandwich without any more casualties and then they had both relaxed in one another presence in the living room.

It had been Chris and both of them had sat up prepared for whatever was about to go down, ready for whatever they would be needed for.

“Argents Arms International Warehouse, Kate’s there. I’m going ahead with Scott. Meet me there.”

It hadn’t taken them long to find what they needed, better pants for Isaac and Stiles’ hoody before they were out of the door.

Stiles looked across at Isaac and smiled, they’d walked to the warehouse, Stiles’ instincts and Isaac’s ability to track scents working hand in hand. Isaac still didn’t really know what Stiles was but at most Stiles knew that he could trust him. They were here to lend Chris and Scott a hand and to make sure Kate didn’t get away again, at most they knew that even if she did get away it would give them some headway into tracking her again.

The warehouse was, of course, Argent owned like you would have thought that Chris would have guessed that she would run and hide in a place she would know. And there was nowhere she knew better than something her family-owned.

Stiles slid his mask onto his face and pulled the hood of his jacket up to further obscure his features. He didn’t plan to run into Scott but he figured the probability of that not happening was slim. He trusted Chris and he trusted Isaac, whatever happened he would be fine.

His skin was on fire, not literally, but the pain was intense. Fas and Baalmo were straining to be free at the same time and he’d forgotten what that felt like. Isaac stepped away from him, with eyes wide, the blackness dripped from his skin and formed their animal variants right before his very eyes. He was the first person to realise he had demons etched into his skin by way of showing rather than a warning, Chris had seen it from the start but they had bigger problems than this.

“What was that?”

“Baalmo and Fas, my demon companions.”

Isaac blinked at him, none of what Stiles just said made any sense. Even if he had gestured to the cat and the snake and told him their names. That didn’t mean anything to him other than he knew a lot less about Stiles than he’d first thought. He shook his head and concentrated on what was bound to happen in front of them first, they’d have time to discuss this later, at least he hoped so.

They spotted Chris’ car almost instantly upon getting to the warehouse, Isaac had confirmed that they were inside but it was good to know that they weren’t being spoofed or confused. Plus they didn’t know if there was another Argent owned warehouse nearby that they might have gotten it mixed up for. They were being careful, they were warranted that.

They got there just as one massive ass thing was looming over Chris and Kate Argent who wasn’t human ordered it off of him. Stiles wasn’t certain it was going to stop there as he pushed his hand forward and sent it careening through a wall. Kate hissed at them, here eyes remembering Isaac and her memory reminding her of rumours in Mexico, “Manticore!”

She was running away before Isaac even had a chance to grab her and soon both boys were kneeling beside Chris, Stiles’ eyes were wide as the man shoved them off of him.

“Go! She is why you were here, you can’t let her get away again.”

Stiles nodded, looking to Isaac as he cocked his head to the side, “Scott is with someone dead.”

Chris nodded, “I’ll deal with that. Get him out of here, before Scott sees the both of you. Go!”

Isaac frowned at Chris but herded Stiles out nevertheless, there was clearly a lot of things he needed to discuss with his companion, but that would, of course, be for another time, right now they needed to get back to the house gather their things and find her scent before it entirely went cold and they ended up trapped in a town both wanted to escape.


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles slumped in the car, his heartbeat was erratic and his breaths were coming out in short exhaustive huffs. Isaac had recovered quicker than Stiles but he seemed just as defeated. They’d been trailing Kate Argent unsuccessfully for the past two months until they had finally lost her trail. They were shit at what they’d set out to do, it was a wonder anyone had ever trusted them.

It had been a hard start for the two, they’d never really spoken during their time at school apart from those longwinded sarcastic quips where they mocked one another during the time when Isaac was still apart of Derek’s pack, and before Scott had completing lost his sense of self.

They’d been practically living in his car, sleeping when they got the chance and planning the whole situation out on maps and in notebooks on the hood of his jeep. Stiles was always aware of how little he knew of everything and it was becoming apparent that they needed more help as they went on and on. To the world they were just two men travelling across America, to the supernatural world there was a rumour that the Manticore had picked up a friend and were on the prowl but they hadn’t actually managed to run into another supernatural being since they left Beacon Hills, not even Kate Argent, the whole purpose of their trip.

Isaac puffed out a breath, his entire demeanour defeated. They couldn’t keep up with this if they made no successes and only had a history of defeat. Who on earth would trust them if they had no real actionable skills?

“Why are we still doing this? It’s been two months and we’ve gotten nowhere.”

“We’re going to get nowhere giving up.”

“We’ll get away from here that’s for sure. Stiles we’re in the middle of nowhere, sleeping out of your car and surviving off of protein bars, this is not living.”

“Kate doesn’t just get to run free like this.”

“I agree with that but we’ve made no headway in this quest of yours and now we’ve completely lost her trail this all just seems futile now.”

“So what, you’re just gonna go back to France? Run away again?”

“I didn’t intend to, no! But if you’re gonna act like that when I point out the truth I don’t see much point in sticking around.”

Isaac rolled out of the passenger seat slamming the door shut behind him and stalked off into the wilderness. Stiles screamed into his hands, at least he knew Isaac would be coming back since he’d left all of his stuff behind.

After about ten minutes of wallowing in his own self-pity at his biting words against one of his only friends willing to walk this world alongside him, he finally climbed out of the car himself. He whispered a quick protection and illusionment spell so only he and Isaac would be able to come upon the jeep by accident or even on purpose.

He stalked off into the woods the direction that Isaac had disappeared to. The woods were dense and he knew little about tracking but he also knew that he had a knack for coming across something he needed to come across, even if he might not know he needed it.

The woods were darker than he anticipated and they sent a particularly sinister shiver down his spine. The demon bonds on his arms burned eerily, only mild to begin with and then more powerful than he thought could be possible. A whined scream slipped from between his lips as his knees buckled beneath him. He could hear Fas and Baalmo begging for release.

Smoke was curling up from his skin, from his hip from his arm, the skin bubbled and his eyesight got blurry. The bloodcurdling scream he released had him worrying about Isaac right before he fell unconscious and to the floor. 

* * *

 

He awoke in a wooded area his arms bound in leaves cooling the more painful of burns around his demon bonds. The air was thinner where he lay, darker too and not because of the tree cover, the sun that burned in the sky looked almost eclipse like and sent shadows across everything he could see.

Hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he felt a presence begin to approach him. He turned his attention onwards trying to find anything to protect himself with. His connection with his magic seemed to have been cut when those burns appeared. Fury seethed beneath the surface, he feared for whoever thought to come after something he held dear.

The man that came upon him in the clearance was distractingly attractive and it sent a wave of anger coursing through him. He wanted to understand what was out there in the world but every time he tried to help he kept getting caught up in worse situations.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“You were trespassing.”

“And? Tell me to leave, don’t burn out my demons like we did something against you.”

He didn’t feel the need to appease these creatures, he was tired, he was annoyed and he just wanted to go find Isaac. He didn’t need this on top of everything else, that seemed to be at odds in his already messed up life.

“Your demons?”

“Yes. My demon companions.”

The hand at his neck was hard to bat away and those eyes that were pools of black no white insight observed him with no pause.

“You are telling the truth.”

“No shit. Why would I lie?”

Stiles wrenched himself away from him, his whole body ached and he really regretted even leaving the car. Whatever this was he would rather not know.

“You want things from us. So you lie. All your kind lie.”

“I don’t want anything from you. You pulled me here, I was looking for my friend.”

“No one just wanders into our world. You passed realms, we didn’t pull you here.”

“What?”

“Who are you?”

“What?”

“Your affiliation!”

“Fuck! Stiles, my name is Stiles! Affiliation?”

“What are you?”

“Warlock. What are you?”

“Elven.”

Stiles gaped at him, sure he had the pointed ears that categorised elven in any fantasy book he’d ever read but he was donning black metal armour that fit him snugly and despite the woodland setting nothing apart of him showed his love for nature.

“You what?”

“You have affiliation bonds with the fae and too with demons. You are new, Warlock?”

“I am. Three months new.”

“You are strong.”

“You talk weird.”

The man glared at him, Stiles really couldn’t care less. This was something he wanted free from, he had apparently wandered upon them himself and he hated that this was suddenly supposed to just be increasingly normal for him and he happened to want out. Assumably he had no control over when he would have control over that particular part of his new self now, and that was as annoying as anything else that this new life was bound to spring on him.

“What do you need of us, Warlock?”

“I need nothing of you.”

The scowl upon the elf’s face deepened into a snarl and Stiles fought to remain where he was, it would do his reputation no good if it was found he scared easily. He needed to hold some semblance of control in this uncontrollable situation.

“Lies. Only one of strength, as you are, with a quest, as you must, can even begin to enter our realm. The curtain we hold between ours and yours is particularly resistant to ones who should not be. Thus you need us.”

Stiles ran his teeth along the curve of his lip, sure he and Isaac had a quest, a quest to seek Kate Argent and contain her long before she sought to do more damage to the people of Beacon Hills and Scott McCall, and as much as Stiles loathed McCall he wouldn’t send Beacon Hills into a pit of despair without their valiant protector as he was for them.

“I’m looking for Kate Argent.”

“Your purpose?”

Stiles there his arms out, he’d answered this incessant Elf’s question and yet that clearly was never enough for him.

“To stop her before she does any more damage, she’s hurt enough people.”

“A valiant truth. Warlock, we trust thee.”

The elf snapped his fingers and Stiles was catapulted backwards, his head slamming painfully into a tree trunk and knocking him straight unconscious. He barely registered anything that occurred next.


	26. Chapter 26

Isaac felt the electricity burn in the air and prickle at his skin when it happened. He wasn’t sure what happened but as he felt it he knew it was bad. His ears pricked and he searched, he’d been angry when he’d stomped away from the car and away from Stiles, but he would have come back he just wanted some time to calm down before he would have needed to come back and have a sensible conversation with an insufferable boy.

His nose caught the telltale scent of Stiles, and a number of different emotions, the strongest being pain. He followed his nose into a clearing, there was no clear trail for where Stiles could have gone next, the pain literally remained as if he had been absorbed into the air. His heart rate picked up and he spun around looking for any sign of his friend, for any sign of the boy Chris had almost begged of him to protect.

He twitched in fear, the electricity in the air had fizzled out but it had given way to the intense onslaught of sensory input he was receiving from this one place in particular. Stiles’ pain, Stiles’ fear, the smell of burnt flesh that too scented directly of Stiles.

He spun around distraught, looking for any sign of anything that he could potentially connect to the sudden disappearance of one of the most powerful people he had ever encountered.

The sizzling in the air picked up again and then his ears popped. His enhanced eyes caught the shift in light ahead of him, the air shimmered and then dulled. His skin burned as he headed towards the spot, the hairs on his arms bristling then melting in the shift in air pressure.

He growled at noting the scent of Stiles, whatever this was had something to do with Stiles’ disappearance and nothing would stop him trying to get back through to find out what. 

* * *

 

Stiles woke to find himself held upright by two more he considered were Elven, they were too dressed in black metallic armour which fit them just as snugly as the man he’d met previously. The man of which was stood ahead of him, elevated by a slight platform that held him and a large empty stone throne. He was not alone on the platform however as two other elves stood poised on the other side of the throne, though they wore billowy greyscale dresses and both looked considerably younger than the others surrounding him.

His arms were still bound in leaves but they were also dressed in elaborate and colourful silks, they flowed down his arms and across his chest and back, leaving him in an entirely new sense of dress than he had stumbled upon this world in.

His hair tickled over his eyes and his feet remained bare against the damp earth. He hated to think that the elf had dressed him in such a fashion but if this would prevent him from being smited on the spot he figured he could run with it.

There was a hush of voices then someone was thrown at Stiles’ feet, his anger grew tenfold at the body pained and writhing at his feet.

He locked eyes with the smug elf on the raised platform, “What is this?!”

His face soured, “Silence.”

Stiles could feel his blood boiling as he struggled against the vice-like grip of the men at his elbows. Isaac was burnt and broken at his feet and he hated that a silly argument had driven them here.

There was a sound behind him but he couldn’t crane his head far enough to see who it was so he kept his eyes trained on the state of Isaac, he should have been healing by now but there was no seen change to his state and it was beginning to grate on him.

He was pushed down to his knees as the men holding him dropped to a kneeled position. Everyone around was kneeled for whoever was bound to take a seat on the stone throne, Stiles was almost certain he would hate whoever was coming and he wasn’t up for negotiation of that view.

The figure was taller than he’d guessed they would be, they towered over everyone, their own silks flowered around a glittering black armour, partnered with the helmet that was donned with two elegant black metal wings on both sides. Stiles steeled his gaze against them, one part angry at being there the other part increasingly more and more worried about Isaac Lahey at his feet.

When they turned and lowered themselves onto the uncomfortable looking stone throne and waved a hand for everyone to stand up she finally set her gaze upon the only two who were not Elven in the entire promenade.

“Keeper, what do they require of us?”

Her eyes shifted to the side to direct her question to the smug elf by her side.

“They are on a quest to contain the rampant werejaguar Kate Argent who has been causing chaos across America as of recently.”

“And they need our assistance?”

“No, the Warlock stumbled upon our gate by accident. It would seem his pet werewolf tracked him here.”

She hummed and turned her full attention towards Stiles and Isaac, her face impassive and her presence large.

“Warlock, I note your allegiance to the faeries, who did you speak to of this pact?”

“Callista.”

“Of the Beacon Hills Preserve. Strong contact. And what did she make of your allegiance to the darkness.”

“It’s their allegiance to me, not the other way around. Get your facts straight before you make assumptions.”

“You too, Warlock, do not forget that I am aware of your hatred towards my people. You dislike our method of trial and you worry for your pet.”

“Isaac is a friend and an ally, he is no such pet.” Stiles snarled at her trying to break free of the grasp they held on him to stop him attacking.

“I would have assumed your alliance with any werewolves would have been shattered by those scars you received.”

“Isaac was not involved in that. I may not trust certain wolves but that does not turn me against all wolves, there are more people I do trust than not. These scars are a reminder of those I can trust after all of it.”

“You are unlike others, Warlock. I am aware you knew little of your abilities until recently, how are you faring?”

“As anyone would I assume, those I can trust have helped me get where I am now. I would very much like to get back to that if you could let us go on our way.”

“We will do no such thing, you are untrained and your wold is unhealed. To contain Kate Argent you require more than you have as of yet.”

“What makes you think I’ll accept your help?”

“Because you need it. Take them to the Summerhouse.” 

* * *

 

The Summerhouse was yet another thing made of black stone within this Elven Realm, it was a lot more toned down with drapes and curtains and wide windows giving an illusion of freedom to the two Beacon Hills supernaturals, they were not fooled.

Isaac groaned and writhed on the couch, his skin had been almost burnt off of him as he lay scorched and in pain on his back. Stiles felt utterly powerless to help his friend and he couldn’t even siphon away pain like Isaac would have been able to for him. He was one shit Warlock and now he’d gotten both of them trapped in a world they didn’t belong in, if this realm was anything like the faerie realm time was bound to be warped here too. Stiles was afraid of that.

The Elves had dropped them off in the room and then promptly left, even remembering to lock the big metal fenced door after them. Annoyance bubbled beneath his surface even as he attempted to attend to Isaac.

Stiles’ hands fluttered over his pained friend, he didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to help. He started by trying to peel away his clothing, it couldn’t be doing the werewolf any good to be trying to heal around fabric that would only need to be torn out later. Isaac was babbling unintelligible things, tears streaming down his face and his words mushing together, begging for it all to be over.

“You have no idea what you are doing?”

Stiles startled and spun around quickly to find a man wearing a similar style of clothing to himself stalking towards him a firm expression on his face.

“Who are you?”

“Tucker, Mage of the Valtaur Elves.”

Stiles blinked, it cleared nothing up.

Tucker looked over Stiles with glazed eyes and an uninterested stare, there was little Stiles could do but stand and watch as this man approached him.

“You know little of anything. A disgrace to be called a Warlock, who told you you were one?”

“The Demons.”

Tucker’s expression grew somewhat interested and he pushed the silks off of his arms and tore away the leaves, Fas’ demon mark stood stark against his pale skin.

“You said demons, I see only one.”

Stiles lifted the silks to show the snake mark resting against the left side of his ribs.

“You are powerful, but unprepared. Who dared send you beyond your territory like this?”

“My mother died, I was unaware of what I was for eighteen years. I only found out three months ago.”

“Weak excuse, what if your father where is he?”

“He’s human and he’s at home.”

Tucker’s eyes widened substantially, “so you have received no classical education as such is required for anyone with any semblance of power. The council will have to hear of this. Tell me, boy, who was your mother?”

“Claudia Gajos.”

Tucker paled dramatically and he took a cautious step away from him, eyes darting back to where Isaac still whimpered his pain never-ending.

“You are a Gajos, boy?”

“I would assume so considering she was my mother. What do you know of her?”

“An ambitious witch, years younger than I, but even I was aware of her education. An elemental witch, powers on all scales, no one designation. She chose emissary work and turned to guarding the Nemeton, to make sure its powers were in check.”

“My mom maintained the Nemeton?”

“As you were supposed to be taught when you would have presented, what do you know of the stump?”

“It contained a dark spirit that possessed me, we killed people.”

Tucker regarded Stiles spookily, Stiles did not like the way that man was looking at him.

“I cannot teach you as Zaphar wanted me too. Your power is tenfold my own, I can do nothing to help you contain that energy within yourself.”

“They wanted you to teach me?”

“An ally they said, someone to represent them, you are renown amongst the realms, we did not gather the clues until words your friends have spoken of rang true. The Manticore in our world, the power of Warlocks well beyond your years, a destiny unsurmountable. I am but a mage, I wield no knowledge worthy of your time.”

“Tucker!” Stiles started forwards, hand outstretched and the man squealed, his eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped to the floor. Stiles blinked, never had someone reacted in such a fashion to him, he was Stiles Stilinski the spastic kid from Beacon Hills, it hurt his brain to think he could be considered something so fearful to cause a man of his father's age to pass out in fear.

He rolled his eyes, he would be able to get no help from anyone especially if they feared to be in his presence. He reached down and picked the balding man up, his silks dragging his weight into higher figures than Stiles had pegged him for. He lugged him across to the couch facing Isaac and huffed a sigh, he’d hoped for assistance in healing his friend but it was clear he’d be of no use until he awoke once more and of course they were locked in this Summerhouse, he would need to find something to keep himself from going crazy.

He peered around the wide spacious room, he’d only been in this one and he wondered just how much more he could get around too. He cast an apologetic look to his pained friend before he set off on an exploration, he was hoping he could find something that would help Isaac. He just needed to heal and then at least he would have someone he trusted by his side.

The place resembled an old medieval castle from films, the walls were stone cold and his feet tingled as he walked without shoes. The silks blew around him, catching in the wind and throwing pretty shadows across the floor. Windows were barred and suits of armour lined the corridors. It was unknown to him how large the Summerhouse might possibly be, and if this was their Summerhouse he hoped never to see what the Winterhouse might resemble.

Doors were locked and no amount of rushing the wood could have them budging. He surmised it was probably magic, probably Tucker’s magic, the mage would probably laugh to think his weak Mage magic could even defeat the renowned Manticore.

He tried every door he came across with no such luck, his shoulder ached from the strain of attempting every door he found with brute strength. He needed more knowledge and he would have gladly taken the pittance that Tucker clearly knew, surely it was more than his own unclassical education had rewarded him.

He found his way back into the main room with a sigh, there was no way into any of the rooms and he was only failing Isaac more and more. Tucker was still passed out unconscious on the opposite couch and Stiles just wanted to scream. He was a failure, a failure to his mother, a failure to Isaac and most devastatingly a failure to himself.

He threw his hands up in silent frustration and felt the floor move beneath his feet, it grumbled and growled until the walls were shifting and he was gripping ahold of the couch Isaac was resting on as he feared for their lives. Tucker had disappeared and Stiles danger meter was rising much higher than he had ever wanted it to reach. His fingers dug painful grooves into the material of the couch, his feet were sore and his ears rang. Something was happening and he was powerless to stop it. A failure of a warlock and a failure to whatever his destiny would become.

His eyes remained fixed on Isaac until the room had stopped turning itself inside out. His friend was still in pain and they were still rapidly falling into a situation they had no clear hope of escaping.

There was slow applause behind him and Stiles felt his jaw clench, whoever this was, was toying with them and he surely did not appreciate it.

He slowly released the grip of his fingers and turned to face the centre of all his angry intentions.

The fire in his eyes caused the lanky robed man to quit his clapping, clear his throat and introduce himself properly.

“I am Tanner, the separate more sophisticated side to the Mage of the Valtaur Elves, you passed our test. Your magical output was unquantifiable, off of the charts and pleasing to report. The council has been informed and they should be along with a representative in the next 2-3 working days.”

“Help my friend!” Stiles barked out. He was becoming increasingly short-tempered with these people and their intense interest in him while his ‘less’ important friend suffered in their presence.

Tanner stepped backwards and adjusted the robe around his neck, “not my department I’m afraid. It’s your test, the books here should suffice in building your education. When you have mastered the skills you need, Zaphar will reconsider your plea to leave, your friend included in that pardon.”

Stiles glowered at the lanky man until he vanished in front of his very eyes. The room was filled from wall to wall with books and more books. Wheeling ladders stayed ready for his use, the silence of the room broken by the whimpers produced by Isaac, the knowledge that something here could save him was enough to bury the frustration. He had to do this for him, he had suffered enough. This was his burden to wield and wield it he would.

He heaved the first six leather-bound books off of the lowest shelf, set them on a table, pulled up a chair and prepared himself for the work that was surely ahead of him. For Isaac.


	27. Chapter 27

Tanner had been spot on when he’d said a representative of the council would be by in 2-3 working days, and it just so happened that they were escorted in by both halves of the Mage of the Valtaur Elves. No one of any significance had been by the room they had left the young Warlock and werewolf in, a small elf had brought food and drink twice a day but Stiles barely lifted his head from those books when they came by. His patience was wearing thin and he had found little to help Isaac in what he had read, his magic was bubbling under the surface with every new bought of knowledge he absorbed.

When the door opened to the rooms, Stiles’ golden eyes found them from the mountains of books he was hidden between, the sounds of Isaac’s muffled whimpers drew them to where he was, quite unable to let his eyes go long without checking up on his pained friend.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed into slits as he spotted them at the door, the people threatening him with the guilt of his friends suffering to heal him with a spell found in one book in a room containing a million. Those men could help and they chose not to, he would forever hate them for that.

The two halves of a Mage walked forwards with an impeccably suited man with gold-tipped ears and hair swept back into a bun at the back of his head.

Stiles watched them for no longer than ten seconds with his whiskey coloured eyes before they flashed gold and a once static sword became animated and held its position floating before the chest of what he assumed was the representative of the Council. He did not need to be disturbed, he was just here until he could get a newly healed Isaac and they could both get out of there.

The man waved his hand and although the sword hesitated for a moment it eventually acquiesced and hit the wall he had waved it towards.

“You are strong having been without a classical education.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you are told you’re responsible for the amount of suffering your friend remains in. So if you could go and I could get back to work that would be a real help.”

Stiles deadpanned trying to bring his weary eyes back to the page in question that was detailing spells to make matter expand or shrink. He didn’t know when it would come in handy but he supposed it was better to know now than need later and not know.

“I’m afraid I cannot just go, there is a matter of paperwork considering your mother's death and the position you intend to move into should you ever escape the clutches of the Valtaur Elves.”

Stiles scowled at them and made no effort to move from his spot. If this man wanted to discuss paperwork he would have to get through the labyrinth of books he had built around himself. The briefcase he set down on one tower of books containing what Stiles remembered as being defensive spells, it opened and a pile of paper was pulled from the depths. He scowled at the movement, his entire being begging to be left alone, his heartstrings burning as Isaac whimpered to his right.

“These are the papers that state you have not received the mandatory classical education for a being with your relative magical ability. If you could sign here.”

Stiles aggressively wrote his name on the dotted line, his shaky handwriting giving up the real lack of sleep he was still working on. His letters wobbled and he couldn’t write any faster than the slow shake, even as much as he wanted to be done with this immediately.

The man hummed, setting those papers back into his briefcase, he handed over the next set.

“These papers require your signature and your description of the death of Claudia Gajos, for our records.”

His voice was barely sympathetic, Stiles hated him more so.

His hand shook as he wrote out what was asked, the Frontotemporal Dementia she had died of when he was eight. The words were hardly recognisable but his vision was swimming now, he had a vague recollection that he maybe hadn’t slept in the past 2-3 days, the thought that if he slept he was only betraying Isaac. His guilt-tripping him into a state of self-harm in order to save his friend.

Those papers followed the others into the briefcase and yet the pile didn’t seem to be decreasing by any means and Stiles really wanted to sleep by now.

“These are to state you aren’t going to be a problem to the Council.”

Stiles glared at the man, he hadn’t even heard about this council before now, to think he could have been a problem to them was laughable at best. Right now though he was considering killing this man in front of him, that would be breaking this contract for certain. He could care less whether he followed any of their stupid rules, what he figured though was if he just signed their papers without question they would go quicker. By the smug look on the slimy councilman’s face, he too was thinking of the same way.

“If you could explain on these what your designation might well be. What your powers seem to lean towards. What you’ve been able to do so far.”

Stiles had to think about that one, with his tired eyes and his shaky hands he just wanted to be concise and quick he needn’t struggle more than he had to.

 _‘Defensive’_ , _‘fire’_ , _‘offensive’_ , _‘demonic’_.

The man frowned over the words, clearly expecting more of an open answer, plus none of the words even lined up, they couldn’t stick him as one designation. He was like his mother in that idea.

“And finally, what you plan to do with your education that you seem to be receiving from the extensive library of the Valtaur Elves, a privilege given to few.”

Stiles got the hint that this man wanted to learn from the Elves and he would gladly let this man swap positions with him, let's see what he would do with one of his friends suffering as an incentive to come into his powers.

He frowned at the paper, the pen feeling foreign in his shaky hands. He was one breath away from passing out, at least that’s what it felt like.

 _‘Heal Isaac’_ , _‘Find Kate Argent’_ , _‘Manticore’_.

He saw the addition of his moniker a threat and a promise. He wanted them to fear him, he did not want people thinking they could do anything like this to him or his friends again and if he had to take the name of a mythical creature to do it, then so be it.

The man paled some as he read over those words, the threat clear to his shaky lettering. There was no way this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass, but even now, he knew for certain he wouldn’t be trusting any other magical character or elf after this, no matter how much they begged of him for it. They did not deserve his trust. 

* * *

 

Stiles found himself berating himself for the fourteen hours he had passed out, face crushed against the page of a book. He felt heartless even as he closed the book around the drool he’d left coating the pages, they could have a saliva filled book if he was only one bookcase out of a hundred done.

He wished he knew a spell for locating the book he wanted. They would be here forever and Stiles feared for how long he could stay sane while Isaac suffered, not too long he suspected.

His neck cracked as he massaged it and pulled it back. He looked over the empty shelf to the right of him and imagined the books there again. He couldn’t stop twitching as he thought of the many more books he needed to look through.

He tugged at his hair until he could force himself to get up and reach the next sets of books. His sanity was at its thinnest. 

* * *

 

Two months: one wall complete.

Stiles had taken to meditating his eight hours of sleep, his eyes were bloodshot at best and his voice was rough from lack of use. He ignored anyone who came inside of the building, if they came too close he threatened them, all without words, until they left him alone in his solitude.

Fas and Baalmo had taken to leaving the safety of their patches on his skin and walking the corridors. They could sense the complete angst their master was experiencing and they didn’t like what they imagined was ahead for them, best to leave him be. A mad man on the edge of sanity.

His body was marked with runes and words, a spell he’d found in his third week, a way of marking himself for protection and for power. He needn’t both of those things but he’d been bored and angry at himself after all this time.

A tally of how many days Isaac suffered lay open at the back of his neck, fresh scars added daily, those 65 marks sliding down his back. A silent reminder of the stakes of his entire mission here, he worried for the sanity of his friend, whether it would be more humane to put him out of his misery but that only made Stiles cry more.

A wolf, a warning rune, not just to wolves of course. It was a powerful mark that would initiate a feeling of fear and dread to encompass a person until he was sure they wouldn’t be a threat, it was his choice to make the mark on his chest a wolf as a reminder what one had done to him. But it was as much that as it was a promise, to make sure what happened to him and what happened to Isaac never happened to anyone else if he could stop others hurts maybe some of his would heal. 

* * *

 

Six months: two and a half walls complete.

He’d shaved his head, he’d had a fit of rage and in the midst of shaving his stubble, he’d decided the too-long locks on his head were too much and shaved them off.

It was just growing back in now, splotches of black covering splotches of red and making him look slightly less manic than he had a week before.

He’d regretfully found a silence spell and had cast it over Isaac so as not for his whimpers to drive him even further up the wall. He felt the pain of it every day as his fingers fluttered across his friend's neck to reassure himself of the pulse there. His mania was increased and scary, he worried even if he did heal Isaac he would never recover from the insanity of a person he’d become.

Books were strewn aside, papers with manic scribbles and half-eaten food lay untouched. He had made this room a hovel in which he felt confined. He had found out upon the eve of his first month that the main door wasn’t at all locked, that he wasn’t trapped, that it was only his persistence to heal Isaac that kept him trapped within.

As time went on he worried he would never find his answer amidst any of these books, he was too tired to think of what he would do if that became the case. He figured it would be nothing good, another reason he put those thoughts to the back of his mind for later. Now wasn’t the time for that. 

* * *

 

Fourteen months: two shelves remaining.

Stiles’ eyes hurt and his fingers were covered in cuts. One hand held the book open in front of his tired eyes as the other held onto the trembling flesh of his friend. The twenty to twenty-five books that were piled up around him were exactly the last things that might contain what was needed. He’d already found several healing manuals in his quest across the library, he’d worried if they’d been the most useful spell and promised himself he would find the best before he even went about treating Isaac.

He’d been transferring some of his pain for weeks now, Stiles’ skin was gaunt and his hands shook even as he went for more books. His brain was a spellbook unparalleled, he would never be underestimated again, he would never let himself be underestimated again.

His hair had regrown and was now touching his ears, dangling low in his face and nearly blending in with his beard. It took too long to shower every day so he took them thrice a week, he needed as much time with the books as he could spare. Sleep was minimal and usually only happened when he passed out for those fourteen hours he could live on for a mother week before his next episode. He was living in a permanent state of delirium with the end of his tunnel in his sight. He couldn’t give up now, most definitely not for Isaac.

He fingered through the pile of Healing manuals by his side. His eyes hurt and his mind ached, there was something about being so tired that just hurt him more so.

Isaac’s pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips and he turned to look at his friend, those eyes open for the first time. Looking worriedly across at his haggard figure, his mouth open as if to say something before it cut off into a groan, tears blooming in his eyes, pain ever holding him.

Stiles ran his hand across his face, fingers catching in the beard he’d messily tried to cut the first time he’d noticed how ragged it had been growing. He promised him he would fix this, he would fix him, the everliving feeling of being burnt alive could not have been good for his psyche, it surely wasn’t good for Stiles’.

He rested his forehead against Isaac’s drawing more of his pain and inhaling swiftly at the sensation, his skin bubbling until it faded back and stopped. His pain was only temporary, and only temporary relief for Isaac, it was as much as he could do at the moment. He would fix this.

He leafed through each book, wanting to find it as soon as possible; burn relief, complete heal, pain relief, harm reversal. Each one seemed of use but he wanted to fix him, he wanted to help him, he wanted the harm reversal and the complete heal and the burn and pain relief all at once. He didn’t want the spells to counteract one another, he wanted them to work in synch, but each author's preface he’d read had slated the others. Each healer had wanted him to think their spells were better and that the others wouldn’t work as well. It laid open an impossible situation, one that could end in Isaac being physically well but in constant pain, or he could be without the pain and remain permanently scarred, he didn’t even have the opportunity to make the decision for himself and that worried Stiles a lot.

Scanning his eyes over the work he wondered if he could combine them, but then he worried he’d do something entirely wrong. This couldn’t work even if he wanted it too, there were too many variables.

He pulled frightfully at his hair, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Worrying his eyes darted across the hand positions once again and it was when he did so that he first noticed the similarities between the movements, just a few differences in the elongation of the pinky finger between the burn and pain relief movements but otherwise they were exactly the same. He’d found early on in these fourteen months that he was much more powerful and adept at wordless spells, something about the anger in his movements and the hidden pain in his words that sent books bursting into flames at his feet. He couldn’t put the same amount of power into the words as he could the hand movements.

He studied the complete heal and the harm reversal steps, he knew it was somewhat like the cold and flu tablets that you could get in different strengths, it was only ever the packaging on the outside that changed all the ingredients remained the same. He wasn’t wrong. He rubbed at his weeping nose, the snot clinging to his grubby robes as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he’d been looking for over a year for.

He cracked his fingers and hovered over Isaac, this was a situation that would change their future. If only he could get it right.


	28. Chapter 28

The entire compound of the Summerhouse felt the aftershocks of that spell. It had been what caused everyone to converge upon the library, after so long of avoiding the place for fear of what the budding Warlock would do to them all was forgotten to find out what had caused such a disturbance.

The doors had been torn off of their hinges and lay crumbled smoking in the corridor, singed pages of books fluttered in the air of the corridor and that of the room. No one would be able to use the library again, whatever had occurred was destructive and worried all Elves in the vicinity.

None dared enter the room even as they peered inside.

The distinct clack of shoes was heard from down the corridor and they immediately made to look busy, something about being caught by their Royal looking absolutely useless next to a situation they weren’t quite sure of would be sure to ruin her thoughts of them.

Her eyes swept past them as if they weren’t even there, the Keeper and Tanner and Tucker walking a couple of steps behind her. Zaphar entered the room as if the sizzling in the air didn’t deter her, the poisoned looks on both halves of the Mage of the Valtaur Elves had everyone scuttling further back from where they were stood. Something surely was not right here.

The epicentre of the carnage was pulsing with a power long since thought gone, they had known the prophecy that beheld this boy but they were unaware of just half the power he had here. It hadn’t been but a year before he had begun to attempt to heal his friend, a healing spell that took much more advanced mages a matter of decades to master, and yet he had absorbed the knowledge of the library in a matter of a year. It truly was unprecedented, and for the first time, the Royal of the Valtaur Elves was justifiably afraid.

The air prickled with gold and noise thundered about the room. It was hard-pressed to say where the noise originated but anyone with half a brain could gather it came from the epicentre of the disturbance. An epicentre which was blocked from all sight by the twisting mass of black mist swirling in a protective shield with the addition of two pairs of different coloured eyes just to fuck everyone up a little bit more.

Zaphar stepped forth to command the situation, to gather why her extensive library was brought to its death smouldering into ash and burning slowly on the floor. Her skin prickled with fire as she attempted to walk further and she had to step back and wait. There was no way for her to get to the bottom of what was happening without injuring herself irreparably.

They would be forced to wait until the young warlock was ready to speak to them. 

* * *

 

Within the powerful epicentre lay two prone figures both on separate edges of consciousness, though both shared the same groaned acceptance of this newest milestone in their existence.

Stiles shot awake, gold eyes and blood on his lips. His hand groped for Isaac’s his heartbeat accelerating as he fought to find the other boys pulse. Not finding it on his wrist Stiles’ breaths became heavy and his hands clammy. He fumbled for the pulse point on his neck before he let out a sigh of relief, all but collapsing atop of his friend. His skin was healed, and his breath was much less laboured, whatever he’d done he hoped to all gods he’d helped.

“Oi.”

The amused yet pained tone brought Stiles’ head from Isaac’s chest to see those blue eyes gleaming up at him tiredly.

“Sorry, I - sorry. Are you okay?”

Stiles helped him to sit up, his eyes flashing gold as he pulled the couch towards them some from where it had been thrown from them in the blast. He pushed a cushion between his friend and the base of the chair until he seemed to gain some more of his colour back and he scooted away a bit.

“Sore.”

Stiles smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes and Isaac watched his every move with a wonder in his eye and an ache in his heart.

“You look like shit.”

Stiles laughed and finally, his smile broke out in full force, the water in his eyes something Isaac would bring up later but right now he was thankful just to see his hurting friend laugh.

“You’re not much better, wolf boy.”

Isaac let his own hand fall to his lengthened locks and ratty beard. He grimaced but knew they could sort that out later, for now, he was anxious to find out all of what he’d missed in his time in hell, he knew bits and pieces but every time he woke for those precious moments Stiles had always been swamped in books, eyes manic and pained. He hated to think about what he had put this boy through in all their time here.

“How long have we been here?”

Stiles fidgeted with his fingers, eyes downcast and shame on his features, “436 days.”

Isaac blinked, that really didn’t clear anything up. He tapped the side of his leg into Stiles’ knee and brought his eyes up to his, the confused look on his face beat the apologetic look Stiles was sporting.

“Fourteen months. I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the spell, and my ADHD made it hard to read the books. I couldn’t get it done any quicker, I’m so sorry.”

Isaac blinked again, he couldn’t believe he was apologising for this, Isaac had known he’d get him out of it eventually, he trusted him in that. And here he was worried he’d failed him when some of the time Isaac had just wished he would die. They were both as broken as one another.

He shuffled towards Stiles wary of the shifting of his insides, where he had yet to heal despite his look on the outside. He placed his hands on top of Stiles’ and drew them towards him, his insistence that he lean back was spoken on deaf ears as Isaac focused on Stiles right now.

“Don’t be. Sorry. Fourteen months to read all of this is crazy, Stiles. It should have taken a lot longer, and it isn’t your fault I was like that. I stormed off, I made you look for me, if I hadn’t left the car then we would never have ended up here and that would have been a travesty. Look at how you’ve learnt here, you wanted to find the knowledge, you wanted to get stronger, I don’t think this could have been better.”

“I am not thanking them.”

“I wasn’t getting to that. I just, you shouldn’t be sorry for taking fourteen months to get here, you wouldn’t have had to be sorry for taking five years to get here, I would have suffered that time for you to get here. I abhor their methods but I don’t disagree that they changed you. You would have given up if you had to study all of this without an ultimatum, I would have wanted you to. We will have to call your dad of course, when all of this is over, I should suspect he’s worried.”

Stiles laughed and sobbed, and ran their joined hands over his tear-stained cheek to catch the newest one. Isaac only smiled, he surely didn’t mind, he needed to sleep mind but he could sit here for just a bit longer while he healed, while Stiles healed. 

* * *

 

Fas and Baalmo seemed to sense when they were ready to talk and they slinked back into their animal forms almost as soon as Stiles had heaved Isaac back up onto the couch, both of them exhausted and not prepared for a row with a supernatural species but they could admit that they couldn’t wait much longer for it.

Zaphar stepped forwards, flanked by her Keeper and her mages, her most trusted advisors all wary of the power slumped before them.

“Warlock, your power is mighty.”

Stiles glowered at her, he wanted home. He wanted to take Isaac home, he wanted them out of there.

“I accept your hostility in this matter, but we were assured you would not fail this task.”

Stiles stood then, Isaac’s hand braced on his back from where he was seated to stop him tumbling backwards in all his exhaustion.

“You can accept my request to leave. I admit I am thankful for your allowance to use your library, and I regret turning it upon ash with my completion of your task. I trust you will not keep me here in my new power, and you will spread word that no one should come after the people I care about to get to me.”

She bowed her head, completely against her nature but the fire in his eyes and the pain in his movements told her he was not to be messed with. Her remembrance of his name, the name bestowed upon him glowed wickedly in her mind, it was sure to her that no one would mess with him. They may have not made an ally of him and they may not have made an enemy but they were assured that they were the first to be aware of such a power and they would be sure to make him aware of their reverence to the prophecy attributed to him.

“You can leave, you will not be kept here now. But I insist you sleep first, feast with us and we will show you our apologies.”

Stiles hesitated, he wanted them gone but he wasn’t certain the state of his jeep after those fourteen months, he also knew they had no cash and no close friends. The promise of a bed and some good food was a hard offer to pass up. Isaac tugged on the back of his shirt and nodded, he too preferred the thought to a sleep in the woods.

“We accept, your highness.”

“Zaphar, please, Warlock.”

He nodded with a tightlipped smile, finding it hard to accept her gleeful tone as one of a welcoming gesture.

“Brilliant, Xed will show you your room and we will call for you upon the eve of the feast. Please don’t feel confined to your chambers before then of course.” 

* * *

 

The room a servant named Xed had left them in held two separate beds and a bathroom, Stiles’ lids felt heavy and yet he felt aware of the lingering intentions both of them had for sleep.

“Can I?”

Isaac motioned to the both of them and then one of the beds, his eyes soft and tired and Stiles couldn’t ignore that he too didn’t desire to be alone after all that had happened, he nodded.

They crawled under the covers together, Stiles’ hand seeking out the curve of Isaac’s wrist and he wrapped his fingers around it, pulse steady beneath his fingertips.

“I remember you doing that.”

“What?”

“When I was suffering, I remember you doing that.”

“I was so worried you’d die on me. Took to sleeping with my hand curled around your pulse, sometimes even when I was awake. I didn’t know what I would have done if you’d have died while I was there. Don’t think I could have bared to stay there any longer.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Goodnight Stiles.”

“G’night Isaac.” 

* * *

 

They were called from their sleep by a knock on the door. They awoke with Stiles’ hand still gripping Isaac’s wrist while Isaac had tucked his head into his friend's bony chest. They were tucked together on a small bed made for a single person but neither minded even as they winded themselves from one another.

They were met at the door by a weaselly boy who held out clothes that looked mystically like what they would wear in their world. Stiles was somewhat appreciative of this particular want for appeasing them.

The boy waited at the door for them until they were ready, Stiles had shaved his beard while Isaac attempted to trim his hair until they switched, they attempted to make themselves a little bit more respectful.

They had meandered down the halls of the Summerhouse, grateful that they were being allowed to see more of their world while slightly nervous all the same. Even if Stiles held such great contempt for them it was better that they think they were cooperating so they would have no more bad blood than had already been gathered. It was worth another day of pain for a graceful split of the two and hopefully, they would never have to see them again, but with their record, they could only hope.

The table was packed with people, wood the length of the longest hall, with elves all laughing and talking though their eyes remained fixed on the two outsiders, the weaselly boy escorted them to two empty seats by the top of the table, beside the two halves of one mage and the Keeper, with Zaphar sitting proudly at the top of the table. A wreath of what looked like metallic flowers curled into a crown perched neatly upon her hair. Her face was steely but her eyes twinkled, she was enjoying her people enjoying the feast.

She stood as they approached the table and the lengthy hall fell silent. She lifted her arms and everyone swept into a standing position, their hands crossed over their chest and their heads bowed, they muttered something low from their mouths, lips moving only slightly, a prayer of sorts before they were all seated once more. One blink and Stiles and Isaac were seeing more of the Valtaur Elves culture than they had in their fourteen months of residence.

Zaphar motioned for them to take their seats and the Weaselly boy had disappeared to wherever he may too have been seated at the lengthy table. She remained stood.

“We are holding this feast as a gracious apology to the Manticore and his Werewolf companion, for they were treated unwell within their stay but under the appearance of a knowledge gained. Our culture is much different to their own, and while we shall not apologise for this, we should be aware of the differences as we have encountered few beyond ourselves. This feast begins a new start of the calendar, a more powerful Warlock has become aware of his abilities within our walls, and we are holding this for him, and for us. First, we eat and then we discuss politics.”

She sat down and people dived in. Stiles’ stomach growled and he couldn’t help but feel a nervous energy surround him, they all revered him and even if that had been his goal, this was not something he had ever thought he would feel.

Isaac looked to him before he even considered eating. Both were spoiled for choice, and couldn’t think of a better opportunity to recuperate and reclaim some of their lost energy. If they were going to continue outside of this world they needed all of what they could get while they were here, even if they’d had a bad experience, to begin with.

They didn’t trust them, that was for sure, but they were here now and they would take what they could get.


	29. Chapter 29

The feast had been enough to fill the two boys for their next couple of empty meals, their eyes felt heavy and as much as they desperately wished for an exit strategy they were wildly contemplating falling back into bed once more.

They shuffled into the main hall that held the raised platform they had been held in when they had first arrived. Zaphar was back on her throne with her people flanking her. Soldiers filed into the room after their two guests, full battle armour as they stood in their ranks and prepared for what Stiles hoped was a farewell ceremony.

Stiles glowered amongst their silence and stepped only slightly forwards so he was emphasising his interest in keeping Isaac safe after his reawakening. He felt the pulse of his demons wary for a fight, none of them wanted to be kept there any longer than they had to, they were only still here because they had been promised apologies.

Zaphar bowed her head forward eliciting many glares Stiles’ way, they didn’t believe their highness should bow to anyone, but he wasn’t here to elicit more attacks. That was her choice, he just wanted them gone and safe.

“Bring in our apologies.”

The embellished gold doors to the right of Zaphar opened slowly, and about six more guards filed in, a figure struggling despite the collar they each had a hold on keeping them in place.

Isaac’s hand gripped Stiles’ wrist as they stared into the rabid eyes of Kate Argent. Their aim, the one they were hunting was here in front of them, bound, gagged and caught.

Zaphar waved her wrist and one man approached them holding out the stiff lead that kept Kate Argent bound but at length. She snarled at him but he couldn’t help the look of complete shock, he had never considered this. He was continuously aware of Isaac pressed up behind him, his hand gripping his wrist harder and harder until the pain was flooding his senses.

He hadn’t even considered what he would do if he found Kate let alone what they would do with her now that they had her.

The cold laugh from Zaphar set his nerves alight and his eyes hardened. Kate watched the exchange with barely repressed glee.

“You do not know what you are to do now, Warlock?”

“I have some idea, you didn’t give me much time to prepare a hard-faced prison did you?”

“Need us to give you some time?” She mocked and Stiles felt his eyes glow as his fingers clenched harder into a fist. Kate flinched back at what she saw but could say nothing, the gag still present in her mouth.

“We’ll be going now.”

“As is your right, I wish you well, Warlock.”

“And you. Zaphar, I hope we never meet again.”

The wicked gleam in her eyes told him that would not be a promise she would make, at least he knew not to get involved with Valtaur Elves, he would tell everyone he met not to trust them. Though maybe not his enemies, they could fight their charm on their own.

He tightened his grasp on Kate’s leash, before flicking his wrist out of Isaac’s grasp and replacing it with his hand, he interlocked their fingers and made sure he would not lose his wolf companion in his newest voyage through the portals that would take them away.

The Keeper beckoned for Stiles to follow him, he still hated the fantasy looking fucker, he thought it was right to see him as he came in and see him as he went. Stiles even considered flipping him the bird as he was leaving but considering his hands were both occupied he would settle with a simple yet unnerving glare.

Keeper took them right to the garden area of this realm and positioned them slowly, his eyes hard and his ears pointy.

“You have been fourteen months here and I am afraid our grasp on magic is weak and such I will be unable to send you back to when you came, instead I can send you back a few days. A week to be exact. That is all we can do, that and a bag of essentials to get you on your way.”

Stiles clenched his jaw and squeezed Isaac’s hand. The boy repeating the gesture in good faith. They accepted the bag faithfully, they would have to trust what was inside, for now, they had little time to get in an argument about anything right now. Especially not with these people.

“Get on with it then.”

The air surged around them and Stiles felt the power flood through his nerves until they’d fallen to the floor again, Stiles’ grasp tight around the leash, knuckles white to stop her getting away from them. Despite all their disorientation, he couldn’t assume that she wouldn’t try to get away when the situation allowed for it.

His head swam and his eyesight blurred, he sure hated portals. He was never his best self after coming out of them.

They had landed in the forest, a familiar air to it but he knew it would have changed during their fourteen months gone, his bones ached and his mouth was dry. His eyes sought out Isaac long before he remembered that he held Kate on a leash.

She tugged at his wrist and he only held on tighter. He stilled her with a glare but she recovered quickly and responded with her own smirk around her gag.

“What are we going to do now, Stiles?”

Isaac asked, approaching him cautiously, he wasn’t fond of Kate - neither of them were.

“I have no idea, we could return her to Chris, let him deal with her? The Calavera’s might want to deal with her too, and Derek of course. But none of them know where we are right now, fourteen months is a long time to have no contact with anyone, I’m worried they think the worst of the situation.”

Isaac snorted, “personally I think being kept hostage by elves in another realm is the worst situation, death would have been paradise.”

Stiles chuckled and elbowed him playfully, “we’ll deal with what we’re doing with her later, right now we need to find the jeep and let people know we’re alive. We can tie her up in the back.”

Isaac nodded, chewing on his lip thoughtfully, “are you sure the jeeps still going to be there, like you said, fourteen months is a long time.”

“I placed an illusion charm on it, only you or I could wander upon it purposefully or accidentally.”

Isaac smiled, sometimes he forgot just how much of a wizard his friend was before they had gotten kidnapped by elves and forced to become more of a master of his skill. 

* * *

 

The jeep came into view almost as if they stepped through an invisible wall, the blue was faded and looked worn but their stuff was still inside and that was better than anything they could have hoped for. The phones were dead of course, but they were in need of finding a place to contain Kate, for the time being, a motel would have to be their best bet.

The bag of essentials the Keeper had handed them before their trip through the magical portal, held a sum of money that would have been enough for a couple of nights in the shittiest motel they could find, but they supposed it was enough at this time, it was definitely more than they had before. Maybe the elves were useful for something after all.

It took three tries to get the car in drive and Stiles was purposefully ignoring the delighted grin that took over Kate’s face at him. He didn’t need the mocking of a known psychopath, he wouldn’t rise to it, it would not be that day.

Isaac’s eyes were drooping as they continued down the round and soon his head was bobbing with the movement of the car. He smiled as he thought of the fight he’d had to stay alive all this time, his friend deserved a little nap after all of this time.

He pulled over at the first motel he could find. It stunk to high heaven but he knew they’d be cheap.

Kate had turned up her nose at the sight of it, as he’d pulled her around the side of the building, he’d left Isaac rousing himself in the car to watch their stuff. He shoved her through the door, didn’t let her eyes linger on the double and single bed for too long before she was being contained to the bath. Her hands cuffed in front of her, and even as he conjured new ropes to keep her in the bath her eyes widened more so. He didn’t want to discuss what he was with her, she didn’t deserve the decency to be told, she had underestimated him just as everyone before and after her had too.

He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting away the urge to just fall asleep standing up.

_‘Fas? Baalmo?’_

**‘Warlock. How can we be of assistance?’**

_‘Can you watch her, please?’_

**‘Of course.’**

He opened his eyes to see smoke uncurling from his body and making their forms right in front of him. Baalmo slithered around the edge of the bath as Fas sat there blinking his yellow eyes unflinching even as Kate seemed to shrink in on herself. Stiles felt a mad sense of glee knowing she was afraid in this instance, she should be afraid, he was more dangerous than she might care to think.

He rubbed his tired eyes as he left the bathroom to see Isaac passed out on the bed, snoring gently. He smiled for a moment, considering just joining him and retreating into the familiar comfort that sleep held waiting for him. He had more things to do before he could let himself sleep, there would be time for that later.

He shook his friend into the edge of consciousness, and he blinked sleepily up at him, “What?”

“Don’t worry, I’m just stepping out to call home. I’ll be back soon.”

“But - Kate?”

“Fas and Baalmo are watching her. Just sleep, I’ll be back shortly.”

“Okay.” His voice was thick with sleep and his eyes were already drooping once more. Stiles patted his shoulder one last time before he headed out of the motel and towards the reception where the free phone remained. His notebook in his pocket held his contacts numbers and who he needed to call.

The woman behind the reception desk eyed him suspiciously but turned back to her own phone call as he reached for his.

He called his dad first, that was a reasonable first call for anyone who had disappeared for fourteen months.

The phone rang for longer than he wanted it to, his hands got sweaty and clammy and he didn’t want to think of anything bad while this was happening. He didn’t want to overthink anything, but if something bad had happened during his fourteen-month kidnapping session he would be more angry with the Valtuar Elves than he believed he could ever have been.

Luckily his brief departure down the black hole of worry ended when his father finally picked up the phone.

“Sheriff Stilinski?”

“Dad?”

“Stiles? Is that you son? Oh thank god you’re okay.”

“Sorry for scaring you, dad. We got caught up in something we didn’t mean too. Took us a while to get out of it.”

“I hoped you were safe, kid, we all kept an ear out but there was nothing. Could do with your help here to be quite honest.”

“What’s happening?”

“Chris says its Chimera’s whatever they are, and then there are some people calling themselves Dread Doctors, but we’re handling it with what we have at the moment. There’s time yet son. Tell me about what’s happened with you, Isaac still with you?”

“Yeah he is, we got caught up in some business with some elves, they were holding Isaac hostage if I didn’t learn to master my skills. It was some shitty Yoda business that only got two angry supernaturals on their list of enemies.”

“But you’re both alright?”

“Yeah, and we have Kate Argent now, so we’ll be dealing with her for the time being.”

“You good to deal with that?”

“I’m gonna call Chris and Derek after this, but I’m sure we’ll come up with some sort of a plan. She’s tied up in a bathtub at the minute, the demons are watching her.”

He heard his dad let out a chuff of a laugh before he responded, “I’m sure that scared her. I’ll let you call the others now, you still got their contact details?”

“Yeah, still got my book. Speak to you soon, dad?”

“You’d better.”

He hung up the phone and rubbed at his eyes, the silent tears had been a shock to the system, he hadn’t wanted his dad to be worried about him, he clearly had a lot more work to get done, he didn’t need to be worrying about the insignificant troubles that his son was involved with.

He fingered through the pocket notebook until his finger came to rest under the scrawl of Chris Argent, he didn’t want to worry the man either. He didn’t need Stiles’ problems, but he knew he had to give him the opportunity to deal with his sister for himself. That was his prerogative.

He rung the number slowly before he proceeded to hold the phone up to his ear once more.

“Argent?”

His voice was gruff and sleep-deprived and Stiles’ stomach dropped. They had been through so much in his fourteen months away. He hated that he couldn’t have helped.

“Chris, it’s Stiles.”

There was a loud sound, a swear and then unintelligible voices before the phone was back within speaking distance.

“- Okay? What happened?”

Stiles laughed, cleared his throat, then spoke. “We got trapped in another realm, they forced me to grow my power in return for saving Isaac. We only just got back out.”

“What species?”

“Valtaur Elves.”

“I’ll have a look at the Bestiary but I’ve never heard of them. You and Isaac are okay?”

“As good as we can be all considering. But Chris, we have Kate.”

“What?”

“The Elves, they caught her for us as an apology for what they did. We’ve got her tied up in the bathtub at the motel we’re at right now.”

“What are your plans?”

“I-I don’t know. I thought you might want to be the one to deal with her?”

“I worry I’ll only let her off for what she’s done and that wouldn’t be justice. I’d suggest contacting Araya, she might know best for her crimes.”

Stiles thought back to the Mexican Calavera, he knew she would punish Kate in a fair way for her crimes, she deserved that. He had her phone number too, he was more happy to push the responsibility on another, he didn’t want that on his conscience forever. That wouldn’t work for him.

“I’ll call her, thanks, Chris.”

“You look out for yourself out there, you and Isaac. You got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll call more often.”

“When you can, kid.”

“I was going to call Derek is he about?”

“He’s off the grid at the minute but I’ll let him know to get in touch when he comes back around.”

“And you have everything in Beacon Hills handled?”

“Don’t worry about us just yet, we’ll call you if it gets that bad. Don’t think we won’t. You need your independence. We can deal without just yet. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“Alright kid, be in touch when you can.”


	30. Chapter 30

Isaac awoke to find Stiles sat with his back to him at the end of the bed, he had no clue how long he had been asleep for but if he had to hazard a guess he would not say too long. The light streaming in through the gap in the curtains was fading and growing dark, the likelihood was that he had been asleep for the better part of a day. He felt rested though, and that’s really the only thing he could have hoped for coming out of any of this.

Stiles’ shoulders were hunched and his head was hanging down low and defeated. Isaac had thought that they were celebrating after getting out of their long-held imprisonment and the capture of Kate Argent at long last. Worry pooled into every fibre of his being as he leaned up from his position on the bed.

He frowned at the creaking of the cheap bed and the way his friend never moved, something was pulling him in deep especially with his reflexes. But then again there was a long way for the two of them to get through, Stiles had spent the past fourteen months more or less in solitary confinement while Isaac had suffered through the time mostly in a state of deliriousness that he mostly doesn’t remember.

He shifted up onto his elbows and nudged at Stiles with his foot.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Stiles flinched as he felt the bed move to his side, Isaac coming into the periphery of his vision.

His shoulders relaxed as he remembered he didn’t have to remain on high alert all of the time, they were past the worst of it, at least he hoped they were.

“Did you get much sleep?” Isaac asked rubbing the evidence of his own from his eyes.

Stiles shook his head, conflicted expression on his face, defeated body language in his shoulders.

“Can’t get over the acceptance they seemed to have when I called them. Like fourteen months away and they were completely fine with it. I shouldn’t want them to worry, but I don’t know.”

Isaac rubbed at his shoulders, frown creased into his face, “this is what? Your dad? Chris? Derek?”

“Dad and Chris. They just wanted to know what had happened. Like me calling them was the first reminder that I’d been gone. Do you think we should go back?”

“I don’t know. I think we should sort out Kate first and then decide from there. I think there’s always something going to be happening in Beacon Hills and if we were going to go back we would have to choose the right time for it. Did they give any indication of what they want us to do with Kate?”

Stiles shrugged, his eyes heavy with fatigue, there was never a time for them to relax after a long day but they also didn’t see that coming anytime soon. They were faced with the reality of dealing with a day as it came, they could plan for the future later.

“Chris suggested we call the Calavera’s.”

Isaac flinched thinking of what rumours he had heard of the Mexican supernatural hunters. Stiles caught his movement and rubbed his thumb along the back of his hand, he wasn’t about to let anyone lay a hand on his friend after this.

“I trust them, they won’t touch you, I won’t let them.”

“I won’t let them touch you either.”

Stiles’ lips quirked up into a half-grin, his eyes still tired. He liked the fierceness of his friend's statement, there was no messing with Isaac when he set his mind to it, they were alike in that sense.

He breathed out heavily and wrung his hands together, “so we’re going to head back to the Calavera’s that’s our plan? We ignore that pit in our stomachs about Beacon Hills and focus solely on dealing with the cat in the bath.”

Isaac laughed and nodded, his fingers tangling with Stiles’.

“Sounds good.”

Stiles nodded, dropping Isaac’s hand and moving to stand up again before Isaac caught his t-shirt between his fingers.

“First, you sleep.”

Stiles’ shoulders slumped and he looked longingly at the bed. All of his limbs felt like they would shut down on him any minute, it wasn’t an unfair call from the smirking werewolf.

He nodded, allowing Isaac to pull him towards the bed. He fought to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach, he was too tired to think on any of that now. He curled up next to Isaac, their heads angled together, Stiles’ fingers seeking out Isaac’s pulse on his wrist once more. The soft smile he received made it all the better.

“Night Stiles.”

“Night Isaac.”

He shuffled forwards until his forehead was pressing against his friends and finally let his eyes slide closed.

* * *

Stiles woke to someone poking him in the ribs, he murmured and tried to push whoever it was away from him. The weight beside him shifted and protested but rolled away from him all the same. The poking continued and Stiles groaned as he threw back the covers that surrounded him and forced himself to open his eyes.

He flinched when he found Fas’ violent yellow eyes staring him down where he was stood on his chest.

_‘Virgin.’_

Stiles snarled at the cat and shoved him down to his legs, careful not to jostle Isaac too much.

“What?” He hissed quietly, eyes darting between Fas and Isaac.

_‘The time for rest is over, the bitch is getting boring.’_

Stiles cast his eyes to the still closed bathroom door where he was sure Baalmo was still entertaining their captive.

“Had enough of babysitting duty?”

_‘Tired of your pretence. Either break the bond or seal it.’_

“What on earth are you talking about Fas?”

_‘Magic, Warlock, don’t fuck with it unless you intend to follow through.’_

“We aren’t on the same page, Fas. Talk to me again when I’m not still half asleep. Go back to Kate, I’ll wake Isaac and then we’ll get back on the road.”

Fas rolled his eyes before his smoke form slithered away back beneath the door.

Stiles turned to Isaac, hand coming down to touch his shoulder before he rolled over to meet him.

“I’m awake, what was that all about?”

“The cryptic clues of my demon companion. He likes his hidden truths, but we need to get moving, get Kate out of the bath and find out what Araya wants to do with her. Then at least we’ll get our lives back some.”

Isaac nodded, stretched and then sat up. “Are you going to call her before we go?”

Stiles nodded, “I’ll come back in to help you with Kate before we go.”

* * *

He flicked through his book after sitting down in the chair beside the freephone in the reception area once more.

He settled his finger on the sharp heavy indentations of Abaya’s handwriting on the page. His ragged breathing really revealing how he felt about the whole situation, he trusted them sure, but being trapped with people he didn’t know for so long had left all of his naivety burned away. He was little like the seventeen-year-old boy who had walked into Mexico over a year ago. He was knowledgeable past his years and facing the trauma of someone who had lived a full life, he was much different than he used to be.

Dialling the number, he settled in the chair and placed the phone to his ear.

“Calavera’s who is speaking?”

“Manticore.”

The sharp inhale of breath and the hushed voices told him little but he would wait. The seconds it took to transfer him to Araya hurt his mind, he was mostly done with all of this patience shit, he might require another session of meditation with the candle and Diego the Mexican wall.

“Manticore?”

“Hi, Araya.”

“We thought you died, boy.”

“Stiles is just fine, Araya.”

“Of course, what is it we can help you with this time?”

“I have Kate Argent. I asked Chris what he wanted to do with her, he suggested I ask you. So what will it be?”

“You have her? You are not close to finding her? You have her now?”

“Tied up in my bath right now being guarded by two hungry demons. She isn’t getting away Araya.”

“Can you get her here?”

“Of course.”

“Not going to ask what we will do with her?”

“Don’t care.”

“You have changed.”

“I have. It’s been a long year.”

“We will catch up when you return.”

“Gracias, Araya.”

“No, thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled lightly before he hung up the phone, at least this was one last thing they wouldn’t have to worry about. They just had to drive from the back end of nowhere Nebraska to Casas Grandes in Mexico and deliver a bitchy werejaguar to a bunch of hunters who’d tried to kill her over a year ago. That was a lot of variables and Stiles had very little fucks to give.

He ran his fingers across the healed scars on his face and sighed, he was not like anyone he’d ever met before, he was jaded and he was tough. He was angry and he was tired. He was ready for all of this to be over and he was only eighteen. He no longer wanted a purpose, he wanted his own life and he knew he would never get that while Beacon Hills remained a beacon for all supernatural creatures.

Fate was bringing him back to the place he had escaped and he only wished his time wouldn’t be up so soon. He could not bear to think of what would happen when they finally came there, nothing good he was assured.


	31. Chapter 31

Smuggling Kate out of the motel that morning was its own operation in its own way, they’d gagged her and placed a bag over her head. Her wrists were tied together but they’d removed the rope from her ankles. To anyone looking it wouldn’t have ended well. Stiles pushed her into the back of the car and cast an illusion as if she wasn’t really there, they needed a smooth sailing drive from here, he wasn’t in the mood for anything else.

Isaac curled up like a cat in the passenger seat, he wasn’t asleep he just looked very comfortable. Stiles was envious of him for a while but Isaac hadn’t learnt how to drive so that was all his job, he’d take driving right now over public transport anyway.

They’d decided to sleep in the car in rest stops from now on, it was too much of an effort to keep Kate unseen smuggling her to and from motel rooms where she would only reside in the bath watched over by two steely-eyed demons that Stiles called friends.

Baalmo and Fas had alternated their time out since them, Fas liked to curl up on the seat with Isaac and just absently be petted while Baalmo liked to wrap her way around his neck and dangle like a scarf. It was like being on a weird road trip with your evil nemesis, your best friend and your two pets.

Isaac took charge of getting Kate fed, he sat and watched her every time they stopped off and handed her a sandwich. They couldn’t have her starving to death before she got real punishment for her crimes in Mexico. Though Stiles figured Araya wouldn’t have been too bothered if they brought her back dead, she just seemed like one of those old types that stuck to the ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ ideals that you saw in old cowboy movies.

Stiles had gotten so used to supernatural types being accepting of his new face that he forgot about the ardent disgust he received from most humans. He’d had to tighten his fingers around Isaac’s clawed fist to stop the werewolf lunging at the border agent who sneered at his passport picture and his newly modified face.

He made some quip about Stiles feeling more at home in Mexico and although he knew it was a jibe about him looking like some sort of criminal he’d have to agree. He surely liked that Mexico wouldn’t judge him for his scars nor his tattoos. He had family here too, a family he was more than willing to introduce Isaac too also, he had a feeling the orphaned wolf would love the pack that had taken him in when he’d first arrived.

Fas was practically vibrating with energy as they made their way back through the rural landscape of Mexico. His attitude had rubbed off on Isaac who was staring at everything like it was the first time. Obviously, it was his first time in Mexico that Stiles knew of but he was willing to bet that wasn’t the first time he’d seen a tree.

Kate was getting visibly anxious even though they were still a days drive away from Casas Grandes, she knew where they were taking her. The broken and emotionally scarred boys she might have been able to manipulate two years ago were guarded and strong. They didn’t care what they were driving her towards, the torture and punishment they were taking her to. She didn’t want to think about what they’d gone through for them to have reached this pain.

Stiles pulled them over in Janos much as he had last time, he didn’t walk the streets alike times previous but he did send a postcard. A call to his dad, that he didn’t believe the bullshit he’d tried to preach about everything being okay. That he was in Mexico, a number he could contact him at if he chose to change his mind about telling him the truth.

Honestly, he felt like they needed to go back to Beacon Hills, he’d considered saying home but this jeep felt more like home than Beacon Hills did at this point.

He didn’t want the trouble that would come from going home. He wanted to see his dad for sure but he did not want to get dragged up in the next thing they’d gotten him involved in.

Janos was quiet and the man in the motel didn’t question it when Stiles led a bound Kate into one of the rooms. They’d surely seen worse than this, for all they knew it was some sort of fetish thing. Isaac had still hidden his face when walking past, he wasn’t past the elves situation as much as he might have liked to let on, but Stiles didn’t blame any of that on him, not for one second.

He bound Kate to the spare bed and set Baalmo and Fas on her before he and Isaac collapsed on the other bed.

Stiles’ hand found Isaac’s heartbeat and Isaac wound his head into the crook of his neck. They’d missed the direct contact the few nights they’d spent asleep in the car rather uncomfortably but it was the best of several bad decisions.

“So you’ve been here before?”

Isaac’s voice was muffled in the skin of his neck but Stiles found he could understand him as well as if they were talking face to face.

Stiles tapped out his response in morse code on his wrist knowing full well that Isaac didn’t know what he was doing but it was calming anyway.

“I stopped here when I came looking for Derek.”

“You seem calmer here.”

“Yeah?” Stiles chuckled lightly, “I guess it might have to do with the way they see me. I’m not my scars here, my scars show I survived and the people here respect that. I’m not perfect in America, they just want to fix me.”

“You don’t need fixing.”

“Good I never intended to get it fixed.”

Isaac hummed into his neck, “how much longer till we get where we are going?”

“Just another days drive, I’m gonna leave you with some friends before I go hand over Kate.”

“No!”

“Isaac, I’m not leaving you. They’re the nicest pack, their youngest beta is six, he gave me the mask. I don’t want the hunters threatening you. I don’t think they will but I am not risking it.”

Stiles felt Isaac tighten his grip on him but he made no move to complain again. He didn’t think Isaac had thought he would abandon him but they’d become so accustomed to one another’s presence that it would feel strange all the same. But he worried what Araya would say and he needed their relationship to remain cordial. He needed them on his side, he didn’t know what was coming in the future but he had a feeling a group of hunters loyal to you wouldn’t be a bad get.

* * *

Stiles paid the motel owner a hefty tip for not saying anything about the tied up woman they’d bundled in and out of his place. The man tipped his hat before turning away, they had a mutual agreement that this never happened and he greatly appreciated it.

Isaac was sulking in the passenger seat knowing that he was going to be left behind while Stiles went to talk to some dangerous people. He couldn’t fight it because he knew Stiles had made up his mind but it didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The blue jeep rolled into Casas Grandes and he pulled up outside of Adelia and Ezio’s modest little house.

He was barely out of the car before a little brunette bullet was latched onto his midsection rambling on in Spanish that Stiles really didn’t understand.

“Hola Ezio. This is my friend Isaac, I was hoping you’d let him stay with you while I attend to some business.”

“I go, Alpha.”

Stiles watched as the little boy ran back in the direction of the house yelling flurries of Spanish at a closed door. It wasn’t another second before Stiles was lifted off of his feet in a huge bear hug as Arturo found him by his car.

“Hermano I have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Arturo. Friend, this is Isaac, I would like to extend my apologies for bringing two supernaturals unannounced into your territory.”

Arturo waved a hand as he pulled Isaac into a fierce hug next, “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours. So how have you been, I see you have prisoner?”

“It’s a long story, Arturo. I was just stopping by hoping to leave Isaac here while I go speak with Araya, I worry about her with wolves.”

“She is better since you my friend. Come we must give you an escort for old times sakes and you can tell us this long story. I can sense your powers grown, Brujo. Let us introduce a wolf to Araya that you are associated with that she won’t want to kill on site, I suppose the same might not be said for the woman in your trunk.”

Arturo clapped a startled Isaac on the shoulder, “it is a compliment my friend. Come let us go, Ezio get back with your mama.”

Ezio saluted his alpha before running back into their house. Stiles grinned as he went before turning to Isaac and shrugging, he loved this pack he sure did.

* * *

Araya’s stronghold looked a much the same. He wouldn’t have thought he’d ever have been gone for over a year if he wasn’t completely certain of that fact.

Stiles hooked his lion mask over his arm for old times sakes but didn’t move to put it on. He had no need to hide his identity around friends. He trusted them an awful lot more than he’d trusted anyone in a long time.

Kate resisted as he dragged her from the car, she stumbled as her feet hit solid ground but his grip on her arm kept her vertical.

Fas and Baalmo remained two black masses on the ground beside her. She wasn’t expected to escape but they would take no chances.

Severo met them by the door, his eyes fond but his face stoic, he accepted the transfer of Kate’s custody his hand replacing Stiles’ on her arm.

Isaac gripped onto Stiles’ elbow as they walked. He’d heard about the Calavera’s from Argent, that they’d been known for their ruthlessness but it was apparent that Stiles felt more comfortable around them than he had in a long while. There was a calmness that Isaac only saw when they were alone together wrapped around one another in the same bed. It amazed him that this was his safe place during the day.

Isaac observed the building as they walked, it was all so homely and not at all as he’d expected for a stronghold of hunters. Stiles walked, positioned to a degree in front of him, his allegiances set before he’d even stepped through the door. Isaac only hoped this went cordially, he definitely didn’t want to be the reason that they didn’t.

Stiles grinned when he greeted Araya, the clasping of their hands together so much of a stronger greeting than anything else. Her eyes slid to the held Kate at the side of her and she clapped her hands delighted.

“Manticore, you have been gone too long and for good reason, I gather. Come, we must hear the tale of how you captured la Loba.”

Stiles nodded following her into the main room, Isaac glued to his side as the Morales pack sauntered in after him. Severo handed Kate off to someone else to be taken to wherever they were holding Scott and friends over a year ago, or at least that’s where Stiles guesses them to be taking her. But these were hunters one could never be certain how many torture dungeons they held on premises after all.


	32. Chapter 32

Stiles had allowed Isaac to burrow his fingers into the gap between the couch and any part of his body. He realised how weird it was that he was so comfortable with hunters that had been rumoured to have slaughtered many of Isaac’s kind, Stiles just happened to trust the people in this room a whole lot more than he trusted any of supernatural creature that wanted to befriend him for his newfound power. He was cynical now, he trusted less and he was no longer naive, he would not let anyone get a one up on him.

Severo looked stony which wasn’t more than his usual look but Stiles didn’t want to think about the fire he saw in the mans eyes as he spoke of the way the Valtaur Elves kept them captive in that realm for the past fourteen months. Arturo didn’t look much better, the claw marks pressed into the expensive leather of one of Araya’s couches but he didn’t think that she would have any qualms about it after what he’d just spoken of. She looked angry too.

Stiles wrapped his hand around Isaac’s wrist and calmed down to the feel of that steady heartbeat against the pads of his fingers. He breathed out of his nose slowly and felt all of his energy drain out of him, this was entirely too much he was entirely too jaded in fourteen months than he’d thought he would ever reach.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to move away from it all.

“So, what has happened since I was last here?”

“Are you going to just ignore what happened to you, Hermano?” Arturo asked his hands finally retracted to his side, claw marks huge in the arms of the chair.

Stiles shook his head, “I’m not ignoring it, I’m moving on. I will never forget what happened but there is little I can do about it now, and I don’t want those fourteen months to define me. I just want to continue living, if we get stuck thinking about what they did to us then what was the whole point in trying to get out there for the better.”

Araya nodded, her lips pressed together thinly, “you are broken but stronger, I see that, Manticore. You aren’t hiding your scars inside and out, it is entirely honourable. We have heard little from Beacon Hills but of what we know there is darkness there, entirely more than has ever been.”

Stiles sat up a little bit straighter at that, Chris and his dad had been lying. He’d known they were but it was entirely worse knowing that what he’d expected was now the truth.

Every bit of guilt inside of him flooded to the surface, he’d left them when he’d known they’d need his help, he’d known that they would always need his help especially now that he wasn’t just some weak human. He had the capacity to help now, it was entirely his responsibility to offer it now, he just didn’t want to go back.

“I-I don’t know what to do.”

Isaac squeezed his wrist about as unknowing of what to do as Stiles.

Araya shook her head, leaning forward and laying a comforting hand on his knee, “whatever you think is right we will trust you. They hurt you but they won’t have the capacity to get that one over you again.”

Stiles nodded, millions of thoughts rushing through his mind at once. He bit his lip and tried to ignore the frustrated tears that were building in the corners of his eyes, “I need to call my dad, can I borrow a phone?”

Araya nodded quietly gesturing him to follow Severo.

Stiles stood up and shook his head at Isaac to follow him, he needed to speak to his dad. Severo clasped him on the shoulder supportively and lead him into the corridor.

* * *

Isaac shrunk in on himself as he was left alone in a room with Stiles’ very powerful allies, a pack of werewolves and hunters on good terms in the same room united over one thing, Stiles.

Araya watched as Stiles left the room before turning all of her attention to Isaac.

“I have found myself trusting more dogs over the time since I first met our friend, I can see he trusts you and I dislike hearing what was done to you, if you ever need use of us for your sake or his we will come.”

She offered him her hand, and he leant forward to shake it. She was still scary but he could tell she cared.

“He’s changing a lot of people. I see that now.” Isaac glanced towards the door where his friend had disappeared out of and then back to the other wolves and hunters in the room.

Araya nodded a smile present on her face for the first time since Stiles had shared their adventures with them.

“He came here demanding that we release Derek Hale the first time we met him. His scars hidden by a flimsy plastic mask, we didn’t have Derek Hale but we had that pack the ones that started him on this path, instead of having us punish them he asked us to set them free in turn for favour. He united us with the Morales Pack out of a common worry for the powerful man that he has become. He will continue to attract danger for as long as he is powerful, his name will create fear and awe and enemies and he will need all the help he can gather in this time. I am glad to know that he has someone he cares so deeply for beside him, even if that person happens to be a wolf.”

Isaac smiled at her words.

* * *

Stiles sat down on the floor next to the table with the phone sat atop of it. He cradled the phone in his hands as it rang for longer than he wanted it to, the dull ring tearing his heart in two the longer no one answered. His fingers burned cold and sweat pooled at his brow. He didn’t want to think the worst of everything but he wanted to speak to his dad.

When the call hit voicemail he cried silently his head tucked between his knees. He knew Severo was still watching him but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Clearing his eyes and wiping his nose, he fished for the box of the phone on top of the table and brought it down beside himself.

He fingered through the little book at the lack of numbers he’d saved from Beacon Hills, his clean break had been a bad plan from the start.

Calling Chris he felt tears roll down his face again. The line was disconnected. It hadn’t been two days since they had both been alive and healthy, telling him that what was going on in Beacon Hills was something they could deal with, he didn’t have to worry. But now they weren’t picking up and he was worried.

He sobbed into the crook of his elbow, he could feel his magic tugging at him for a release but he shoved it down harshly, that wouldn’t end well for anyone if he let that get the better of him in such a way.

Wracking his brain he couldn’t think of anyone that he remembered the number for, this was entirely too stupid. He couldn’t call Beacon Hills from Mexico, but he couldn’t just go back and find out that nothing was happening, that his dad had just been asleep and Chris had broken his phone. There were plenty of none dark reasons that neither one of them were picking up.

Derek didn’t even own a phone so that wasn’t a plan at all and trying to find one Derek Hale in America on a landline phone from a hunters compound wasn’t a good enough plan to allow through with.

He turned his head into his knee and shook, his cries were as quiet as he could make them but he knew that all the werewolves in the next room knew exactly what he was trying to hide.

A presence at his side made him flinch before familiar arms tucked him into his side and he proceeded to cry unadulterated into Isaac’s shoulder, his friend a strong reminder of what he pretended to be every single day.

Isaac peeled the tightly gripped phone out of his hands and took the box, he dialled a number and passed the phone back. He wrapped himself around Stiles in a more comfortable hold and pressed a light kiss to the side of his head.

Stiles couldn’t bear to listen to another receiver hang up on him, but he also didn’t know who Isaac had called. He trusted him, he’d sit here and find out who he had called.

The line clicked and a familiar voice flooded to Stiles’ ear.

“Hello?”

“Melissa.” Stiles’ voice hiccuped at the end of the sentence and he was pleased to hear the relieved sigh at the other end.

“Stiles, is that really you?”

Stiles sniffed and nodded, “yeah, Melissa I can’t - I-I can’t get a hold of my dad. Please tell me he’s okay, please.”

Isaac was wiping away every new tear and Stiles stared at him breathlessly as he waited with bated breath for Melissa’s response.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry he was attacked, they brought him in earlier, we’ve been trying to find you to get in contact with you he’s been in surgery for a couple of hours now, we still don’t know.”

Stiles felt his breath stop, he was away and his dad got hurt, if he had been there he might have been able to stop it. He could have saved him.

Isaac peeled the phone from his grip and grabbed his fingers, “Breathe Stiles, come on. Breathe, copy my breaths.”

Stiles found his eyes glued to the overdramatic movements of Isaac’s lips prompting him to breathe deeply before he was no longer panicking and entirely grateful to his friend.

Isaac lifted the phone off of the floor, curled Stiles into his chest and spoke to Melissa for him.

“Melissa, it’s Isaac. What’s happening in Beacon Hills while we’ve not been there.”

“I didn’t know you were with one another.”

“It’s not important. What haven’t they been telling us in order to keep us away? We spoke to the sheriff and Chris three days ago they said everything has been under control and now the sheriff has been attacked. Do they have it under control or not?”

“I trust Scott, there’s a lot of things we don’t know yet but we’ll get there.”

“What is happening?”

“Chimeras. These things called the Dread Doctors experimented on some kids and turned them into Chimeras, one of them attacked Noah.”

Isaac lifted the phone away from his ear, he knew that Beacon Hills was sucking them back in with this but this had to be Stiles’ choice, but he knew what he would do.

Stiles nodded, “For dad, I don’t want them to know just yet but I want to see dad.”

Isaac nodded, “we’re coming back if you can get in touch with Chris tell him we're coming back from Mexico.”

“Do I ring you back here if I have more information?”

“No, we’re with friends. We’ll be back in a day, we’ll call you when we’re back.”

“See you soon, both of you.”

“Bye Melissa.”

Isaac hung up and wrapped both of his arms more securely around Stiles. Very soon they would be back in the place they had escaped and neither one of them was quite prepared enough for it.


	33. Chapter 33

Arturo had insisted on sending Carlos back with them, purely for the knowledge that their two vulnerable friends at least had someone unequivocally on their side in all of this. He also insisted on driving and there was no way around that if they didn’t encounter traffic on the way back it would take them at least eleven hours and that was without stops. They wanted to get back as soon as possible and if that meant someone else drove while Stiles and Isaac were curled up around one another asleep in the back then that’s what would happen.

Fas and Baalmo protected them in their weepy slumber, neither one of them wanted to go back either the demons feeling the pain Stiles felt when thinking of his home town. He was their master and all they wanted to do was protect him he needed that much and whatever they were coming back to now didn’t bode entirely too well for any of them.

Carlos kept a steady speed, he was careful to avoid potholes for fear of disturbing the two in the back, it had hurt him as much as anyone else when he had heard what the two of them had endured in Nebraska. They were the strongest people he had maybe ever encountered, and if Arturo hadn’t allied himself with them (like that would ever have happened) Carlos felt justified to say that he would have disagreed and followed them anyway. Something was coming and something in him told him that he needed to be on their side no matter what.

There was something about the powerful kid that told him that it would be in everyone's best interest not to challenge him, whoever had hurt him in such a way to drive him to Mexico in the first place was in for one hell of a reunion when they got back to Beacon Hills. Carlos himself might even need to be restrained to know that whoever it was used to be these kid’s Alpha, he most definitely wasn’t any Alpha Carlos would ever swear allegiance to.

Stiles’ sleep was fraught with nightmares, he was awake for most of the trip his entire being entangled with Isaac’s. He was eternally grateful for Chris for suggesting he come with him, they were protecting each other equally not at all in one stronger way that he assumed Chris had brought the werewolf down for. They were each other's rocks and he didn’t know what he would have done if it was only him trapped in that realm for fourteen months, he would have tried to kill himself, he knew that much.

But Isaac had needed him and he had needed Isaac, that trauma would never leave them any time soon that he was certain of.

Carlos stopped just twice in all of the trip, once to ply the boys awake with food and then a second for a toilet break and to fill the car up.

They rolled into Beacon Hills at the quiet time of 3 am, little was seen as Stiles fought to scribble an address down on some paper along with a key to hand over to Carlos.

“This is my house, no one should be there. Thank you so much for this Carlos.”

“My pleasure kid, go see your dad.”

Isaac nodded his thanks to Carlos as he climbed out of the car behind Stiles rushing inside with him. Carlos watched as they disappeared inside before plotting the GPS to the address Stiles had given him intending to take a long and deserved nap on the first soft surface he could reach.

Stiles skidded to a stop at the nurse's station, not caring for the repulsed look he received for the scars on his face. He remembered that very little people had seen him when he’d been in for his injuries, it had also been a long time since he’d been there they deserved a little leeway of it all.

“Stiles Stilinski, I’m looking for my dad.”

“No visitors allowed just yet.”

“What do you mean? Where’s my dad? Why can’t I see him?”

Isaac wound his fingers around Stiles’ wrist to remind him he was there but he also saw the scared looks on the nurse's faces as Stiles got more aggressive, they knew him he’d grown up here but those scars on his face made him dangerous. The steely look in his usually calm eyes didn’t help.

“Stiles!”

Stiles whipped his head around to see Melissa and a doctor advancing towards him.

“Where’s my dad, Melissa? It’s been over twelve hours, why isn’t he okay? Why can’t I see him?”

“Stiles please come with us, Isaac you too, we need to speak to you calmly about this.”

Stiles settled some in his worry but tugged Isaac closer all the same. He wasn’t doing this without him, he was glad Melissa could see this too.

They followed her and the doctor to a more empty corridor, Stiles caught his breath as he saw his dad hooked up to too many wires and machines in the room. He was alive, that was something at the very least.

“What’s happening to my dad?”

“Your dad had some minor internal bleeding.”

“Did you just say minor internal? When is anything internal, minor? I need to know what’s going on. Someone needs to tell me what’s happening, okay. Someone needs to tell me what’s happening to him?!?”

“We don’t know.”

Isaac felt his stomach drop and his toes curl, something in him had him stepping closer to Stiles. He looked up and he felt the need to punch something, letting go of Stiles he stalked forwards, a growl in the back of his throat as he saw him. Now was not the time for this, if he had heard they were back in town from Melissa she needed to stick her nose out of it all. This was not the time.

Scott saw him coming through the door and barely put up a fight when he grabbed him by his jumper and shoved him against the wall. Stiles was frozen in the corridor at the scene playing out in front of him.

“Where were you? Where the hell were you?”

“Stop it!” Melissa and some of the doctors pulled them off of him and he shook them off of him to return to Stiles’ side. He was making his allegiances very clear right now and he wanted Scott to absolutely know that he knew the absolute truth in all of this.

“Look, the sheriff isn’t the only one who got hurt.”

Isaac scoffed as he looked at the tiny amount of blood on Scott’s shirt, Stiles had yet to speak, “oh you’ll heal.”

“I’m not talking about me.”

The doctors lead them to the room and Stiles couldn’t bear to look as he walked inside, Lydia was pretty much entirely comatose and it was yet another person he’d completely let down in his time away from all of this.

Natalie Martin turned to him angry and upfront, her finger in his face, her words a blur to him as he saw her just lying there.

She shoved him and he didn’t fight back, he didn’t disagree with what she was saying. He and Scott were the ones to drag her into this life at the start of all this, this was all of his fault even if it wasn’t direct blame.

She slammed the door in his face and he stood there prone for a moment before he let Isaac guide him back down the corridor to where his dad was. Nothing good was happening in Beacon Hills, Araya had been right it is all darkness and darker than it had ever been before.

They sat in chairs outside of his room, they didn’t want to be involved in all of this, they came back for Noah that was the only reason they were here. Isaac didn’t want to think about the possibility that they had been lured back but no one here knew what Stiles was, all they could have known about someone powerful was this Manticore that Stiles had been peddling anonymity in an attempt to strengthen him.

“What do you think is happening around here?”

Isaac looked across to where Stiles was fiddling with his fingers.

“Nothing good, I was thinking, you don’t think-“

“That I’ve been lured back here. I considered it. But to them I’m just human, I’m the human that killed Alison. I think they went after my dad because he was the sheriff because he gets in the way of things they want to do. They just managed to bring me and you back as an unintended consequence.”

“I hope so. I’d hate to think we brought Carlos back to a blood bath.”

Stiles nodded, “I’m dangerous, anyone who is in contact with me gets hurt, you, my dad, Derek, Chris. I don’t want anything to happen to Carlos.”

“Luckily I think Carlos can hold his own more than we might think.”

Stiles laughed thinking of the bulky mountain of a Mexican man, “I think you might be right.”

Isaac stiffened up, his head twisting to the side in the way he did when he was often listening in to other peoples conversations. Stiles twisted in his seat, interested to see what he was picking up.

Isaac frowned as he heard it, it didn’t really make entirely that much sense.

Melissa passed them in the hall and he grabbed her wrist, it was fast and it likely hurt but she didn’t refuse them to stop or ignore what he was to say, “he’s saying Chimera. The sheriff, he’s muttering it.”

She looked worried and they knew immediately that they’d locked onto something deeper going on here.

“I’ll tell Scott. Thank you.”

She continued on down the corridor, Stiles stood up, “What’s going on?”

She shook her head, “you shouldn’t worry about it, just stay with your dad.”

* * *

Stiles kicked the wall, he knew healing spells but he wasn’t certain that any of them would help his dad now. He didn’t know what ailed him like when he had known what had hurt Isaac. He’d known what to heal then. He was of no use here.

Isaac had gone back to the house to check on Carlos under Stiles’ insistence that he would be fine. All that could go wrong was Stiles’ want to live and that depended wholly on whether his father survived all of this.

He pressed his hands to his face and screamed. This was all too much. He should never have left, he could have protected his dad, he could have stopped this before it all started and now he had to watch the mistakes of his actions.

Lights flickered above his head but he had little care to think he was being a nuisance right now, he had been over a year away and everything had gone more to shit than its usual brand. He was useless, even with what he knew he was still trapped helpless in a place he only knew pain, he had left his dad behind to feel the pain for him and that was on him.

Sliding down with his back against the wall he curled his arms around his knees and his head into his chest. He felt so small and too weak, he wanted to be with his dad but he was doing nothing to ease any of this.

The only thing he’d succeeded in doing was dragging Isaac back to a place he didn’t want to be. Good job, Stiles.

A hand pressed against his shoulder and he flinched, head up and eyes open.

“What-?”

Melissa stood back with her hands up in surrender, she had seen how he glowed in that split second but chose not to think of it, right now she had different priorities.

“Come on Stiles, come sit with your dad.”

“He’s that bad?”

She nodded solemnly and he screwed his eyes shut wiping away the tears.

Allowing her to take his hand he let her lead him back towards his dad's room where he pulled a chair over and settled beside him clutching his hand.

He let every thought fly out of the window but helping his dad. He focused on his instincts knowing that if he fought too hard he might only wind up hurting him more.

He sat like that for a time before he was being pulled out of the room, claims of opening him up once again to save his life enough for him not to object.

He huddled in Melissa’s arms as they watched through the glass, waiting to see if all would be okay with him. He didn’t know how they knew that something was poisoning him from the insides but he felt lucky all the same, this was his dad, he would never not be worried about his dad.

“Thank you.” He whispered into her shoulder, hugging her for dear life.

“He’s okay, Stiles, he’s okay.”


	34. Chapter 34

Chris pushed past Scott and Malia to see Melissa nodding about the state of their friend. He could see a familiar pair of sneakers down the hall, pacing of course.

He placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and the boy flinched but relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Oh thank god.”

His arms were around his friend, a deeply worried hug that was calmed by the sight of Stiles asleep with his head resting against his dad's side.

“I didn’t know you boys were back in town?”

Isaac nodded and rubbed at his eyes, “we couldn’t get in touch with you, or Derek after we couldn’t talk to his dad. I called Melissa, she told us. We weren’t not coming back.”

Chris nodded as the both of them remained where they were stood watching Stiles with his dad, “are you staying?”

Isaac shrugged his shoulders, “Carlos drove us down, I’m not sure what Stiles’ plans are after all of this, I’ll be wherever he is.”

Chris chuckled, it was sad and harsh as he remembered hearing about everything these two boys had been through in their small-time away.

“Things are bad here, Isaac, I don’t know what will happen if he stays.”

Isaac nodded, “I worry about that too, I don’t want them around him.”

Chris looked back at where Scott and Malia were stood with Melissa, he agreed with him wholeheartedly but he didn’t have the heart to voice it knowing that they could hear their conversation if they really wanted to.

“We’ll go day by day, okay? Just stay with Stiles, I’ll keep you informed if anything happens.”

Isaac nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

Stiles stirred as someone roused him, a hand on his arm. He flinched awake, only to have his dad soothing him. His dad was okay! It was all okay!

He sighed in relief, tears tracking down his face, he was so happy.

“It’s okay Stiles, you still got me.”

He didn’t know how his dad always knew the right things to say to him in situations like this but he surely appreciated it. He gripped his hand between his and rested his chin against it, he didn't trust his mouth to tell him exactly what he felt in this moment. His emotions too huge to voice.

He turned back to look out of the window of the room, Isaac and Chris stood united together watching over him as they had done before. He felt shivers wrack through his body before he relaxed back to focus on his drowsy dad, this was his purpose now, he would get back to all of that later.

* * *

He awoke to spine-tingling distress, his fingers clawed at his spine through his neck as he tried to angle himself away from all of this. Something was happening, something was calling to him and he wasn’t enjoying anything. He tripped out of the hospital room past Isaac and Chris who had fallen asleep on the ratty hospital chairs and towards the nearest bathroom.

He heaved into the sink, black blood splattering against white porcelain. It burned against his throat, clogged his senses, drowning him. Sweat pooled on his brow, pains in his muscles, aches in his bones. This was entirely too much, much much more than he had ever felt before.

He rested his fevered head against the cool glass of the mirror, something was tugging at him, paining him moving him. This was him this was his problem he didn't know why everyone he cared about had to be dragged into it with him. His feet moved ahead of him, thoughts elsewhere, black blood still dripping down the side of his face. He caught his reflection in the glass of the door and wiped it away before he pushed it open.

His dad stood over the dead body of someone he didnt know. A reminder he knew little of what happened here anymore, a story of a library a boy some scaffolding, a death pinned on a story that didnt paint anyone in a good light.

A reminder of what he had missed while he had been away, the deaths that piled high even after Alison, would he have been able to stop any of these if he’d been here, would these stories pang deep in his body if he had been involved in them. Or were they better as just stories, warnings to remind him of why he really wanted to leave.

What did he have here except his dad that he wanted to protect, it told him a lot that he only came back to see his dad when everyone had already been taken down long before his dads near death experience.

“My accident was not your fault, this is my world, you didnt need to come back and get yourself tangled back up in all of this, I know you have your own issues out there.”

“Your my dad, I wasn’t staying away. We weren’t doing anything.”

“But you had just gotten out of that prison world, I didnt want to have to worry you with any of this, it isn’t your burden to bear, not anymore.”

“I don’t want to stay, not forever but you nearly died, dad! I am not heading straight back not straight away, but you aren’t getting rid of me that easy.”

“I didn’t expect I would but I just wanted to check kid.”

“Good, come on dad, let’s get you back upstairs.”

Noah shook his head but let Stiles bare the full weight of him and lead him back towards the elevator. It was good they had that talk but he wasn’t looking forward to seeing him roped back into the crazy that was Beacon Hills, this was not the time for that.

Isaac was looking pretty manic by the time they reached his floor again, but he relaxed substantially when he spotted them, offering his support in strength to getting them back to the hospital room.

Stiles squeezed his wrist, the both of them checking one another pulses even though they were both aware that they were both living.

Noah smiled at the actions of the two boys as he lay himself back onto his bed and made himself comfortable despite everything.

“You boys should head back to the house, get changed, get some food, I will still be here when you get back.”

Stiles eyed his dad cautiously before nodding turning to Isaac, “we need to speak to Carlos anyway. I don’t want to feel like we are keeping him, hostage, in my house for the next few weeks.”

Noah shooed them out of the room, a pained grin painted on his face.

* * *

Stiles rolled his eyes at his dad's antics but let Isaac walk him back towards his car. Isaac took his seat behind the wheel even without his license but Stiles didn’t object. He was too tired and too exhausted to care anymore about all of this.

He felt like an outsider with insider information here. But he feared that even them knowing he might have some information could drag him deeper into the fold. They just had to maintain that they knew nothing and then they could leave as soon as his dad was feeling better.

They entered the house to find Carlos sat on the couch a packed bag by his side. Stiles frowned at him, “what’s up Carlos?”

“Arturo booked a flight, I didn’t want you to think you had to be confined to getting me back to Mexico for any reason, you should be here for your dad. I didnt want to leave before the two of you came back.”

Isaac shook Carlos’ hand as Stiles clapped him on the back for some version of a bro hug and he gathered his bags up.

“You’re more than welcome back here, Carlos, anytime.”

Carlos grinned, the mountain of a man more of a cuddly teddy bear than anyone might have thought of him as.

“Same with you in Mexico, hermano. You saved us a great deal of trouble with the hunters in our district.”

Stiles grinned, “not what you expected when a wizard comes to town is it?”

“Definitely not, more than happy to have one back though. Ezio would appreciate it too I expect.”

“I’ll miss him, let him know.”

“Of course, now boys I’d better get going. Take care of one another.”

“And you and yours Carlos.”

Carlos exited the house heading straight for the cab that had just pulled up. He waved them away one last time and climbed in.

Stiles rested his chin on Isaac’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around his side. “I like our new friends, I’m not too keen on the old ones.”

Isaac smiled and looked down at him, tucking him into his side as well, “my sentiments exactly.”

* * *

Chris found himself worrying as he left the meeting with his father, knowing that this was more than they had ever battled before, but he did know one advantage they didn’t but that wasn’t his call. Not at all.

The beast from the legends, a formidable being that just teenagers could not battle alone. Some of them weren’t just teenagers anymore but he had to believe that Scott’s pack would be able to handle this alone. He could not get them involved until the very last minute, he couldn’t let them get involved unless they had no other choice. He didnt even know if they would trust him, there is a chance that neither party could trust the other without strict rules, even then would it really work.

He felt more of a guardian of secrets than he did a key helper, but in this instance, it was the best play, he couldn’t bring them into it if he didnt have to. There was time yet.

* * *

Stiles curled his head into Isaac’s chest as they sat on the floor beside Noah’s bed, the chairs not made for two people in dire need of direct contact. Isaac was messing with his phone and Stiles was trying to sleep as much alike his dad sleeping snoring in the bed above them.

“What’s happening?”

“Chris.”

Stiles snorted, really that cleared a whole lot up. He knew he was supposed to be getting some sleep in but he just didn't feel tired. Something was keeping him awake, and he knew that it was not knowing something more than anything. But he didnt know how to find it out without getting himself sucked back into the fray of it all.

“Come on, Isaac, tell me.”

Isaac hummed down at him, noting how awake he looked in that moment he conceded.

“He went to see Gerard, to see about everything that is going on.”

“Do you know what’s going on?”

Isaac shrugged, “some, I don’t want to know much. Not unless we plan on staying, I don’t want to feel like I’m abandoning everyone to a terrible fate if I leave knowing everything.”

Stiles flinched knowing exactly what he meant with it all. “Tell me what you do know.”

He nodded, lips pressed thinly together, “chimaeras, you know your dad muttered it. These dread doctors have been creating chimaeras, I don’t know why but I assume to take over the Beacon. Why else? But they’ve been building a sort of pack against Scott and now there’s some big beasty thing which is why Chris went to speak to Gerard. He’s spooked, that’s all I know.”

Stiles groaned and flopped back onto him hard, Isaac breathed out a huff of air, reminding him he was still there he wasn’t just some pillow. Stiles apologised breathlessly and cuddled back into him gently.

“We should help, shouldn’t we?”

Isaac shrugged, “we should but we don’t have to. We can pack up your car and get the hell out of here.”

“That sounds like a good option but I don’t think its one we have.”

Isaac hummed in agreement, tucking his head into his neck. “Do we really want them to know what you can do?”

“No. But we could hide it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Really introducing the Manticore to these people.”

Isaac grinned into his neck, that sounded like a plot and a half.

“Should I tell Chris?”

“I say we wait, I have some people to see if I’m going to stay put, and I should probably tell my dad if that’s what we’re planning.”

Isaac nodded, “okay so we play it cool from here, you speak to your dad when he wakes up and we make sure to keep an eye on the situation before you need to intervene. Sound good?”

“Sounds plausible. Think I’m going to try going to sleep again now.”

He yawned into Isaac’s chest allowing the boy to curl his arms up around him, to make his doze all the more comfortable despite everything.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy hearing what you think!
> 
> My tumblr is CaptArthur if you ever want to chat.


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